She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. It was something that Sebastian had refused to do, a lifestyle that he placed himself above. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. Smith. There was no one to be seen in the great hall. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. 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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