She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. ’ She glared at Hilary. But what did he know beyond these facts? Nothing, clearly. Jonathan had to feel his way. 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 we waste time.
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