To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. Fortescue’s steps, and encountered him with an air of artless surprise. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. 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 attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. When he said, “Let’s go and see the wart-hog,” she thought no one ever had had so quick a flow of good ideas as he; and when he explained that sugar and not buns was the talisman of popularity among the animals, she marvelled at his practical omniscience. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. Twenty guineas, mind. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. ‘Melusine, don’t sit there.
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