something too dreadful to be faced. In the dream his deepest feeling was
always one of self-deception, because he did in fact know what was behind
the wall of darkness. With a deadly effort, like wrenching a piece out of
his own brain, he could even have dragged the thing into the open. He
always woke up without discovering what it was: but somehow it was
connected with what Julia had been saying when he cut her short.
'I'm sorry,' he said, 'it's nothing. I don't like rats, that's all.'
'Don't worry, dear, we're not going to have the filthy brutes in here.
I'll stuff the hole with a bit of sacking before we go. And next time we
come here I'll bring some plaster and bung it up properly.'
Already the black instant of panic was half-forgotten. Feeling
slightly ashamed of himself, he sat up against the bedhead. Julia got out
of bed, pulled on her overalls, and made the coffee. The smell that rose
from the saucepan was so powerful and exciting that they shut the window
lest anybody outside should notice it and become inquisitive. What was even
better than the taste of the coffee was the silky texture given t
.
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