The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. 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. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. Don’t be late if you can help it. "Rather in the way. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making.
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