Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. 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. " "Oh!" Ruth laughed softly. " "Jack, my love," cried Mrs. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last.
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