They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. It was hard to resist. " Ten minutes later, the doctor, having marshalled all his facts chronologically, began his tale. 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.
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