But the sheer immensity of the tract! James Boyle was certainly up against it, hard. 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 can vouch for that. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. Michelle was sounding alarm bells everywhere in Lucy’s brain, but Lucy felt the pull of a 188 greater inertia, the urge to stay put so strong that to deny it was to deny the existence of gravity.
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