” 224 < 28 > RHEA AND THE ORACLE She went inside the house, thinking of Sebastian, worrying. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. 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. I didn’t get it, why she put on the innocent act. Oh, you must believe me.
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