She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. 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 have been more fortunate than I deserved,” Anna answered, “but I only meant to stay upon the music hall stage until I could get something better.
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