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. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. Maggot. Even though I knew you’d no one else to care. I do like to see old friends back here. Sanguine they were not. ’ Melusine’s heart twisted. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her.
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