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. Too much blood has been shed already. I am one of those people who are interested in women, more interested than I am in anything else. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. They live in Arizona now, just as happy as ever from what I hear. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself. Spurlock was fond of dogs; he was fond of this offspring of many mesalliances; but he never made any attempt to win Rollo, to share him. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec. Blueskin, you are a true friend.
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