forthat, and caught her immediately. He held her, panting, as she pressedagainst a big stone gate-post.
"Let me be!" cried Sally, hoarsely and breathlessly. "Let me be." Shedid not scream. She was too impressed by his exhibition of strength. Hecontinued to hold her, and they stood breast to breast, Sally panting,and Toby with a kind of stolid determination.
"Will you come for a walk quietly?" he asked, jerking his head.
"No," said Sally, "I won't." There was no mercy, no humility. Only ahard defiance.
"Yes, you will." He pulled her towards him, so that Sally could notescape. She was now wholly within the circle of his arm, not struggling,but with her poor thin arms staving him off. Her body was tense. But shemade no sound, and if there were any passers they knew that this wasonly a typical lovers' tiff, common to the neighbourhood, and largely amatter of physical strength and feminine vituperation. "Yes, you will.See? Come on, Sally."
"You let me go," she demanded.
"Say you'll come. I'll let you go the moment you say that."
Sally hesitated, then bowed her head in a slow acquiescence. He releasedher, and she ran; but he easily overtook her, and she was once againheld, still with her back to a pillar. Both were now breathing hard.Sally's head was lowered. She was suffocating. She seemed to be incomplete darkness. And she had no sense of what was happening. The meretechnique of the row absorbed her. They were almost like two quarrellingcats, both sullen, both glowering and full of resentment rather thanburning anger.
"Will you come?" asked Toby. "Just for a walk. Half an hour."
"What d'you want me to come for?"
"Want to talk to you."
"Yes, well, I don't want to talk to you. Understand?" Sally was suddenlytrembling with a passionate rage. Her voice quivered as she spoke, andthe words tumbled out in a savage incoherence.
"I'm going to talk to you. So you may as well make up your mind to come.You don't want to stand here all night, do you?" He was as savage asshe, and more grim. Sally made an attempt to escape, and was furtherpinned. He was breaking down the defence of her tired arms. One of hisknees was against her leg. She was slipping, slipping, and her resolveto fight against him was fading as rapidly in her sense of the physicalcontact. She burst into tears. For an instant he loosed her, at that,but as she sobbingly began to run away he resumed his former hold,pressing her against him, a broken little girl, and no longer thetriumphant Sally of the morning. Her hand was to her eyes, and she wasbiting her lip to restrain her sobs. Toby put his free hand up andtouched hers, held it, drew it away from her wet face.
"Sally," he said. "I want you. Don't cry, Sally."
His arm tightened. His face was close. Although she turned away herhead, and tried to wrench herself free, Sally knew his lips wererelentlessly following her own. She was conscious of all the joy ofsurrender, incapable of moving from those strong arms, incapable ofavoiding his kiss. Her eyes closed, her heart rose; she was limp in hisembrace, not as yet returning his caresses, but accepting them with afeeling of miserable thankfulness. Her hat was tilted back, and she felthis cheek against hers, his body against her own. How long they stoodshe did not know; but at last she put her hands up, put them round hisneck, and feverishly kissed him, welcoming this joy that was half pain.
"D'you love me?" she asked breathlessly.
They were alone in the dark street, in the invisible world; and she hadnever been so happy. So at last Toby had his way, and they walked aboutthe streets for an hour, until it was long past the time when Sallyshould have been in bed. Only then did they part, and Sally washalf-undressed when she heard Toby passing upon his way upstairs. Hercheeks were burning, her eyes shining, her heart exultant. Sometimes,as she lay wakeful during the long night, she was so happy that shecould hardly breathe. But a moment came when happiness seemedoverwhelmed in a poignance of emotion that resembled rather a terribleapprehensiveness, and it was then that Sally felt the tears tricklingfrom her eyes. It was only the reaction from excessive joy; but she wasdeeply affected. She longed again for Toby's arms to be round her,pressing her face into the pillow to comfort herself with the pretencethat he was still there. Exhausted, she slept.
xvi
All the next day she could not work for preoccupation with herhappiness. She was mad with it, and reckless in her madness. It even,when rebuke came from Miss Jubb, gave her courage to mention MadameGala. And that was a further cause for delight, since Miss Jubb's mouthdropped open at the news and she could hardly speak to her two girls forthe rest of the afternoon. Sally, chuckling to herself, and every nowand then grimacing at May Pearcey, abandoned herself to anticipations ofthe evening. She would see her dear Toby, would show how much she lovedhim, would feel herself loved, would hear and say all the little secretsthey had never spoken until now. She would know at last what it was tobe in love, and with the man who loved her. How wonderful it was! Whatjoy! What fun! Sally could not conceal her grin of happiness. Her whiteface was as if it had become plump, so immediately did happinesstransfigure her. And she looked at silly old Miss Jubb, and soppy May,and thought how they had no lovers. May had her boys--she could keepthem. Sally had Toby. Toby was not a boy: he was a man. He shaved; shehad felt the roughness of his chin. May's boys looked as if they hadsmooth faces, or if they shaved it made their skins powdery. Miss Jubbhad never had a boy at all, she shouldn't think. You couldn't fancy MissJubb as a young girl. She must be quite old--as old as Sally'smother--perhaps forty. But ma had been unlucky to strike dad. He hadnever been any good. Not like Toby. Toby was getting almost a pound aweek already, he said; and when he was older he would have lots ofmoney, and never be out of a job, because he worked with his hands, withengines, and a man who understood engines would never want for work. Hewas twenty, and he kept himself. He just took his meals with his aunt,and lived in his own room the rest of the time. How she would like tosee his room. She longed for them both to get older. But she wanted toget on herself, first. She thought: if Toby's out all day, and we justhave a little home, I shall be able.... She thought she might be adressmaker herself, and employ twenty hands, and have a waiting-roomthat was all grey-blue. She had told Toby about Madame Gala, and how hecould come to fetch her Saturdays, and they'd have the afternoonstogether. Sally was brimming with plans.
In the middle of them there came a knock at Miss Jubb's door. Miss Jubbwent, thinking it might be a customer. But she came back again in aminute, with a face even longer than it had been since she heard Sally'snews. She could hardly speak, but stood against the dingy door, whichshe held closed, and swallowed quickly before she could say a word.
"Sally dear, there's a man here from the hospital. Get on your hat andcoat, there's a good girl. He says your mother's been taken there. Sheturned dizzy just now when she was crossing the road, and was knockeddown by a van, and run over. She's asking for you, Sally. You're to go.It's not serious, he says. So don't worry about it. You're just to goand see her."
Mother? Ma knocked down by a van! Sally was on her feet in an instant.As Miss Jubb went out again to glean further details from the man, Sallystruggled into her hat and coat. She turned with a callousness whichshowed that she did not in the least realise what might have happened,and addressed the startled and gaping May.
"We may not be princesses," she said with a sort of wild gaiety; "but wedo see life!"
xvii
After she had seen her mother in the hospital Sally was again aware ofthat sinking feeling of having time to fill--a feeling of emptiness ofimmediate plan,--which she had felt in Hyde Park on the Monday. At sevenshe was to see Toby outside the house. It was not yet five. What was sheto do? Not go back to Miss Jubb's, that was certain! Her mother had beenlying in a cot in a big ward, and her arm was bandaged, and she saidboth her legs felt as though they had red-hot nails in them; but she wasconscious, and they had told her she would soon be about again. Sallywas to see Mrs. Roberson and tell her the news, and to go to two otherplaces to let them know that Mrs. Minto would not be able to come for atime. And she was to be a
good girl, and not worry, but to take thethree shillings and ninepence which was in Mrs. Minto's purse, and lookafter herself, and explain to the landlady what had happened.... She hada host of things to do, and she paid her three calls within ten minutes.So far the question of money had not troubled her. She did not thinkthat three shillings and ninepence was very little to live on forperhaps a month. Her emotions at the moment were so blithe that all sheperceived in herself was a sense of liberty. Ma would not be worryingher every minute she was indoors to do this or that, and not to do theother. Ma would not be talking all the time about her head. Ma would notbe watching her, asking what she was doing, playing the policeman,grumble, grumble, grumble. It was a fine