" "I had to. 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. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. “Well, hello there. \"Where would you like to go?\" \"Burger King okay?\" \"Are you sure you don't want to go to some place fancier?\" He was surprised. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this. ’ She tossed her head.
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