The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. He made the universe on those lines. 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. He kissed her fingers and grinned. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. . All RNs were familiar with blood stains. She began to read, and presently she entered another world, and remained in it for two hours. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case.
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