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. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. I had rather have trouble and hardship like that than be taken care of by others. “Run in now. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. ” “Then she has never been my wife.
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