She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. Once before—but that had been different. 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. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. “Like him who stood on Darien I view uncharted sea Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights Before my Queen and me. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. ” It was as if she faced a darkness in which was something very beautiful and wonderful as yet unimagined. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound.
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