He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. Why open my mouth if there might not be a need for it when all’s said?’ Melusine acknowledged the logic of this. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. She dare not risk it. “Vee,” she said, “come home. This way, my dear—and— you’ll excuse my mentioning it, but a quiet blouse and a little chiffon, you know, will be quite sufficient. 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.
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