What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. 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 can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this. Not part with him!" added he aloud. ’ ‘Grateful? Certainly I am grateful,’ Melusine snapped, knowing full well she sounded anything but gratified. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening. Mark you, she wasn’t the only one. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me.
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