Part 2 They had their explanations the next evening, but they were explanations in quite other terms than Ann Veronica had anticipated, quite other and much more startling and illuminating terms. Charcoal, you may bring in the boy. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. 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 affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. ‘He arst me to find him someone who might go with you. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. It isn’t the same thing. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. I fought. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance.
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