The beautiful gowns and the flashing bare shoulders and arms of the women had disturbed and distressed her. My friend the doctor suspected it, and so do I. . 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. But the vicomte has said that his sister may remain, but that the daughter must go. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes.
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