After all, she only LOOKED a woman. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. She drew her naked arms around herself. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. "But I am now coming to the point which most concerns you. 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. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. .
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