His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. They almost made me feel like they were mine. You would not have believed me, I know well. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. “Just do it. 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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