Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. 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. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. “Who can tell?” she said. “So you come from Anna, do you?” she remarked. " And he led the way to an inner room, in the middle of which stood a table, covered with a large white cloth. Then I saw Mrs.
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