Looking at this girl, a sense of failure swept over him. But that was all over. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. “I am lonely. ’ Gerald raised his brows. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. 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.
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