"Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Paris is not the place for two young girls. 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. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. "But there's nothing more to see in Canton. It is not every sort of creature needs—these males. C below. "I was merely about to observe that I am in possession of her secret.
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