Furiously, she dashed his hands away. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. " "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader.
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