"And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. 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. Ann Veronica sat back with a sigh of relief. As you brew so must you drink. You keep on coming truer, after you have seemed to come altogether true.
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