“No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. 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. Her mind developed into savage wrath at the present conditions of a woman’s life. He had been hard since they had taken their clothes off. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. After all, life had still its pulsations. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing.
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