Coquette

day and upon thepossibilities of the future. Consideringly, she at last said in amatter-of-fact tone:

  "One day we'll have jam for tea, ma. And kippers. And fried sausages.And steak and chips."

  "Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Minto. "Whatever's put such ideas into yourhead!"

  "And we'll have real coal, and thick blankets, and a new mattress, andnew curtains, and a brass fender. And everything in the room'll be abeautiful gray-blue. And you'll sit here, doing nothing."

  "I'm sure I shan't," exclaimed Mrs. Minto, fingering her mouth to hide anervous smile of pleasure.

  "Doing nothing. And Elbert, the footman, will come in with the tea andtake it away again; and you'll say, Elbert'--mustn't say 'Elbertdear'--you'll say, 'Elbert, just bring me my glass of hot water at teno'clock.' And he'll say, 'Yes, me lady.' No, he won't. He'll say, 'Yes,meddam ... quite.... Yes, meddam.' That's what he'll say. Lick yourshoes, he will, because you're rich."

  "Rich!" sighed Mrs. Minto. "Who's to make me rich?"

  "I'm going to make us all rich," explained Sally. "You mark my words andwait and see."

  "I wouldn't mind not being rich," Mrs. Minto said, "if it wasn't that mypoor 'ed...."

  "O-oh!" cried Sally, in wrath. Her mood was crushed by this inexorablereturn to the subject she had been chattering to avert. "Give your oldhead a rest, ma. Here, come out for a walk with me."

  "You're not to go out, Sally. Mrs. Roberson says...."

  "_That_ for Mrs. Roberson," said Sally, already on her feet. "You don'tsuppose I'm going to stick in here and get frozen stiff. There's nothingto do indoors. I got no sewing. Only makes me fret if I stay at home.I'm going to see Mrs. Perce...."

  She moved hastily to the door, and closed it quietly after her, for shehad heard below her the shutting of the front door, and she thought itmight be Toby at last. It was nearly a quarter to seven. Her guess hadbeen right. It was he. Seeming not to have heard him, she ran lightlydown the stairs as he heavily mounted them. Her heart was thumping sothat she felt quite sick and faint. She could no longer run, but couldonly totter down towards the inevitable confrontation. It was there, andit was past--a plain, boorish "Evening." She managed the rest of theflight at a run; but when she was out of doors Sally turned to thedarkness and could no longer restrain her tears of anguish. This was theend of her day. Laugh in the morning, cry before night. That was thetruest proverb that ever was made. She was heartbroken.

  xv

  There was no question of seeing May or calling upon Mrs. Perce. Sallywas beaten. She was full of expostulations and arguments, but all wereaddressed to Toby, and she could not have borne any other society. Soshe wandered about the streets for an hour, miserably aware that once ortwice she was followed by an aimless strolling youth who did not knowhow to occupy a lonely evening and who yet was too much of a coward toaddress her. In her mind she went over every detail of her friendshipwith Toby. It had become suddenly unreal, like a thing that had happenedyears before. And yet the throb of pain belonging to her sense of hiscruelty was immediate. Every detail was clear to her; and the whole wasblurred. He was a stranger; and yet his presence would at once havegiven life to her memories. They had been written, as it were, ininvisible ink, which needed only the warmth of a fire to produce theirmessage vividly once again. Sally sobbed from time to time; but she wasno longer crying. Her pain was too deep to be relieved by tears, whichwith her were the result of weakness, since she was not naturallyliquid. And as the memory was exhausted in its evocation she began tothink as of old. Her quick brain was recovering its sway. She was nolonger an overwrought child. And yet when she strove to plan adiscomfiture for Toby, who had so wickedly hurt her, she shrank fromthat also; so it was still a restless and undetermined Sally whoreturned home to find her mother dozing by the feeble warmth of a dyingfire.

  The next day passed in a variety of moods, and in the evening Sallyfound in herself the determination to call upon Mrs. Perce. She hadexplained her non-arrival of the previous night to May, and had removedher grievance with a recital of all she had done during the stolen day.She had endured Miss Jubb's sour scrutiny of her hair, which wasaccomplished without comment. And she had almost, but not quite, toldMiss Jubb of her proposed change. At times her courage was very nearlyhigh enough, but it never reached the necessary point, or theopportunity was ruined at the vital moment by some interruption. So MissJubb worked innocently, not guessing the blow that was to fall. That itwould be a serious blow only Sally suspected. Miss Jubb had never evensupposed it possible that Sally would leave her. The three of them spentthe day in the little workroom, which managed by the end of theafternoon to be the coldest and the closest room in the neighbourhood,perhaps owing to Miss Jubb's use of a defective stove for heating, andher own radical immunity from chilblains.

  After tea Sally went straight to Hornsey Road. In thinking of Toby asshe left the house she made a light gesture with her fingers to showthat he no longer existed. If she had met him she would have attemptedno greeting, for such was her present temper. At the Barrows' she wasreceived with acclamation. Old Perce, who had enjoyed a good deal offour-ale during the day, and had a jugful of it now at his elbow,collapsed at sight of her. He bayed a little, but with an expression ofadmiring wonder that gave Sally her best tribute. Mrs. Perce, theexpert, nodded. She had received a letter in the morning from MadameGala. So to her all the news was known. All the same, Sally spent ahappy couple of hours in the flat, and collected her outdoor clotheswith unwillingness. Each time she had been to see Mrs. Perce she hadfelt more strongly than of old the contrast between her always-cheerlesshome and their warm, prosperity-laden atmosphere. The recognition actedpowerfully upon her. It was the creation in her mind of a standard ofphysical comfort, as the visit to Madame Gala had created a standard ofdecorative colour. She was frowning at the new perception as she leftthe house, and was half-absorbed in her consciousness of it.

  The feeling did not prevent her, at first with a sharp tingling ofsurprise, and then, as she grasped the significance of the fact, a startof emotional disorder, from seeing a familiar figure in the light of theSupply Stores. Her heart jumped, and began to flurry in her breast. Thefigure she saw was that of Toby. He stood a little to the side of theStores, watching the doorway from which Sally came. As she flinched, hecame across the road. Sally pretended not to notice him, and knew thathe was following her. But Toby made no attempt to speak to her whilethey were in the light of the shops. She saw that he had his cap pulledvery low down over his eyes, and that his hands were not in his pockets,but hanging loose. He was dressed in a rough dark tweed suit, and lookedlike a fighter, but not a professional boxer. His carriage was clumsy,but light. His dark face was marked by a sort of determination--notbravado, not impudence, but a solid resoluteness. His eyes she had neverproperly seen. His mouth was large, but the lips were thin; the nose wascoarse, but not big. He was ugly, but he was very obviously strong. Hewas not tall, but was very sturdily built, and gave the air ofconsiderable strength. As he followed her she could hardly keep fromlooking back; it was only with a great effort that she kept her eyesforward, and as she turned into Grove Road she increased her pace. Sallyknew quite well what he would do. He would wait until she had passed theblock of shops and had come to the comparative darkness of the housesbeyond. Then he would walk abreast and speak to her. And while she triedto think what to do her heart was strangling her. She was so excitedthat her breath was coming almost in sobs. She was excited, but she didnot therefore feel at his mercy.

  It happened as Sally had foreseen. As soon as she was past the shops sheheard his urgent voice at her elbow--"Sally!" For a moment she ignoredit. Then she turned, very coldly, and with a slight sneer looked at him.They were side by side now. He was keeping step with her as easily as hecould have kept step with a child. "Sally," he repeated. Sally stoppeddead.

  "What are you following me for?" she asked, viciously. "Why can't youleave me alone? Following me like that! I never heard of such a thing."

  "I been waiting outside for you all
the time. I've had no grub. Ifollowed you from the house. I saw you start out just as I was gettinghome."

  "Well, what of it? I didn't ask you to follow me, did I?" demandedSally. But in the darkness of the street her eyes softened. Her heartswelled at the thought that he had waited for her in the Hornsey Roadfor fully two hours. Toby took her defiance as a matter of course. Hewas still standing doggedly before her, and as she began once again towalk rapidly in the direction of home he followed her, half a stepbehind. At the darkest part of the road he put out a hand to check herprogress. Sally snatched away her arm, but he had been prepared