Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. 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've been thinking about it ever since morning. ’ ‘Did I so?’ Gerald said, amused. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “Girls. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. "I don't quite understand the application. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts.
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