‘I wish you joy of the wench. 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. “But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ’ Melusine began to sag, and felt his strong arms catch her up and lift her bodily into a comforting embrace. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. and those two beggars laughing as they breasted death! Girl, you've gone and done it!" He leaned down and caught her by the hand, and then raced with her to the bungalow. ’ She bestowed a dazzling smile on Roding, who had reddened to the gills at these words. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. She felt like a dried-up old woman.
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