No one is safe. D'ye hear. 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. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. That is I saw her. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon.
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