Coquette

liberation for Sally. That wasthe way in which she saw it.

  Her first shock was when she arrived home and found her own breakfastdishes still strewn about the table as she had left them, the fireunlighted and the old ashes still lying in the grate and upon thehearth, the bed unmade. She was sobered. She first of all found the oil,filled the lamp, and set a match to it. Then she swept the hearth andcarefully made a small fire. The coal-blocks took a long time to catch,as they always did, and they quickly burned dull. Upon them she set akettle, washed the dishes in cold water, and laid the table for tea. Thekettle took a century to boil, and she knelt close to the fire, warmingherself and waiting for the first spiral of steam. Everything now madeher feel splendid. She invented a game that she was married to Toby, andthat she was expecting him home; so that for this evening all her workwas thoroughly done. Even the bed was made with care. And when she hadfinished tea she cleared away, and spread a little old red cloth uponthe table, and once more snuggled close to the puny fire. As she did soall her thoughts were for Toby. Already she began to listen for him,although it was long before his time. Thought of her mother's accidentdid not disturb her at all. Thought of the future was abandoned. Onlythe sweet delight of being with Toby again was her incessant reverie.

  At last she heard him, and started to her feet. Her impulse was to runto the door and whisper to him at once; but on the way thither shechecked herself. Some scruple of prudence, lest he should think her tooeager for him, made Sally allow the steps to pass on up the stairs. Butfor all that she watched the clock, and listened almost passionately forany sound from above. The fire died. She put on her coat and hat,standing near the fireplace to catch the last waves of heat, with herfoot upon the fender and her eyes fixed upon the purplish glow, sorapidly fading to mauve and to grey. She was tense with expectancy. Shehad no consciousness of anything but her strained hearing.Tick-tick-tick. The clock raced on, but the hands all the time appearedto remain still, by so much did her eager heart outstrip them.

  Then there was a thud upstairs, as of a door closed; and quick stepssounded in Toby's room. He stayed there a few minutes, his feet moving alittle, and Sally guessed that he was washing himself. Then, noisily, hecame down the stairs and left the house. He was barely past the doorwhen Sally blew out the lamp; but she stood mutely in the darkness formore than a minute afterwards. Only when her own patience was gone didshe obey her impulse and follow him, creeping down the stairs in thesubdued brown light of the house. Out of doors all was black. She peeredfor Toby. He was there just under the lamp at a few yards distance, andshe saw him move farther away at her approach. That action, and thesense of him, gave Sally the most extraordinary tremor of excitement andhappiness, and her cheeks grew warm. She greeted him with the lightesttouch of the arm, and felt in return his hand to her elbow. They walkedwithout speech to the end of the road, and by common impulse to a darkturning where at this time of the evening they knew there would be nopassers; and there Toby caught her in his arms. There was no moon, andno sound in the street. They were entirely alone, and separated from therest of mankind by an impassable wall of obsession. They stood pressedclose to one another, kissing from time to time, and did not speak. Theyhad at first nothing to say, but there was no shyness between them. Theywere absorbed in this physical contact. But after some time Sally toldhim her news, and made him tell her what he had done during the day, andfelt a great proprietary interest in him all the while. They spoke inlow tones, lovers and amorous lovers even in the middle of humdrumconfidences. Toby was shocked about Mrs. Minto--far more shocked thanSally had been or could have been; but she airily reassured him in herfirst delicious abandonment to a sense of common life. She said "Oo,she's all right. Quite comfortable. More than if she was at home. Andit's nicer for me, being alone. See, she grumbles at me--always atit--what Mrs. Roberson says, and about her head, and what I ought to do,and that. 'Tisn't that there's really anything to grumble at; only, youknow, it's her nature. I never grumble. That's one thing about me.Doesn't matter _what_ happens, I never ... you know ... keep on at it,like mother does. What's the good? Crying won't do any good, orgrumbling either. I shall be happier while she's away--do what I like.Be on my own."

  "Won't you be lonely?" Toby asked.

  "Not with you. Different if I hadn't got you. But if I get frightened Ishall just yell for you; and I shall think of you all the time,upstairs, and wonder if you're thinking of me. Will you be?"

  "Course I shall," Toby swore, hugging her until she gasped. "All thetime."

  "Will you? It's nice to have somebody to ... you know, like you."

  "Is it?" he asked gruffly.

  "Don't _you_ feel like that?" she asked artfully. Her reward, anotherchoking hug, was immediately forthcoming. "You _are_ strong," Sally wenton, and with a sense of daring and ownership and pride felt his arm formuscle. "I'm strong. In a way. Not massive, or anything of that kind. Ican stand a lot. Mustn't think I'm weak because I'm small; but.... Well,you know what I mean."

  "Strong, but got no strength," suggested Toby. Sally shook him,chuckling proudly at his wit and will to tease. It was like shaking atree, so immovable was he by the exerted strength of her weak arms.

  "Saucy!" she said. "Though I s'pose it's what I meant. Toby, you do like... you know ... _this_?" she suddenly asked, not bent upon a caress,but in a sudden doubt. Her arms were warmly about his neck as she spoke.Toby left her no doubt. He was not talkative; he had no ready flow ofcompliment; but he could speak the language which a young girl in lovebest understands. He could crush her almost to ecstatic forgetfulness inhis vigorous arms. Thus embraced, Sally was in Paradise, and her onedesire was to remain there, in a sort of annulment of every otherinterest; but even in Paradise she found her thoughts irrepressible. Soshe chattered on, while Toby grunted or did not say anything, oroccasionally grew marvellously glib and told something about his work,or an anecdote about himself which she sometimes thought he must haveread somewhere. And ever and anon they were lost in silence, and theircloseness to one another, and their long breathless kisses, which madeSally lean her forehead against Toby's breast and enjoy exquisitely thesense of being weaker than he and of surrendering all her will to his.

  If it had not been so cold they might have stood in this way for thewhole evening; but the wind was searching, and presently they began towalk along, he with his arm about her so closely that they walked almostwith one motion. Toby smoked his cigarettes, and when he wanted one heput his left hand in his pocket, and drew out a cigarette, and Sallyfelt for his matches, and struck one, and held it for him, and receivedsmoke in her face, and blew the match out, and received a kiss, Toby allthe time never ceasing to hold her within his right arm. She wishedthere were more cigarettes, so much did she enjoy the sense of intimacy.Sometimes she could not resist the temptation to put her arm roundToby's waist, and give him a little private hug of her own, to show howhappy she was. She loved the darkness more and more, because it made herbolder. And the sky was so dark that the lamps were like small nickers,and if anybody passed it was impossible for a face to be seen. And Sallywas alone in this dream world with Toby. She wished it might continuelike this for ever, night and day, beautifully quiet and secret, withToby all the time loving her as much as he did now. It was lovely. Itwas lovely. She was happy. She did not feel tired or cross or mean orworldly any longer; but only happy, and full of love.

  At last they heard a clock striking eleven, and Sally gave a jump.

  "Mercy! Eleven o'clock. Must go home. Good job mother's not there. Elseshe'd be asking questions." She laughed as she spoke. "She'd want toknow something. I shouldn't half have a time. 'Eleven o'clock: where youbeen?' I shouldn't mind. I'd take no notice. I don't take any notice ofher, because ... you know ... it encourages her if you take any notice.Oo, the way she keeps on. You wouldn't believe. Drive me to drink, itwould, if I had it all the time. But she's not there...." Sally huggedToby. "Isn't it lovely! Nobody to grumble. Nobody to mind what time Iget in.... Well, you know what I mean. I must go in now."
But when itcame to the moment of parting she clung to him. "I don't want to go. Idon't want to go," she cried. "It's been so nice, and I've been sohappy." To her horror she felt that she had begun to cry. With an effortshe pulled herself free. "Well, I suppose I _must_. And you'll think ofme, won't you? Just downstairs. And I'll think of you, and wish you werethere.... Oh, fancy me saying that! Toby...." She was passionatelyserious. "Say you love me!"

  "Love you!" said Toby.

  She turned and waved to him when she was a few steps away, flew back tohis arms, and stayed there for a few minutes. Then, this time