It had seemed to her that life might be very good indeed with his kindliness and sacrifice about her. 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. He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. No one was allowed to pass along Newgate Street, which was barricaded and protected by a strong constabulary force. He smiled complacently. " "You hear that," whispered Jack. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank.
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