My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. 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 wouldn't keep an apprentice to set my authority at defiance. ” He threw open the door of the sitting-room and switched on the electric light. Once I banged on the door so hard I split it in two.
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