But his daughter might well have a claim. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. Somehow logic could not explain her. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. 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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