She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. “He tried it. She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms. 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. Still, the respite was sufficient for Spurlock to look about for some weapon. Did you realize?\" Lucy's mouth twisted into a half-smile that she could not help.
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