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He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. 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. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey.
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