Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. 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. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past. ” He said, uncrossing his arms. Or at least he did the day before yesterday.
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