rocked his head and cleared histhroat. Sally knew that he was reassuring himself by saying internallythat if that was the tone she was going to take....
"You see...." he began.
"Oh, shut up!" cried Sally, savagely. "I've had enough of it." A momentlater he heard a little sob from her, and moved close, overcome with hisconsternation. At his touch she started away. Here it was that Toby'sphysical strength served. He was easily able to put his arms round her,and hold her closely. A voice from the faintly struggling Sally wailed:"You don't trust me.... You'd better get some other girl...."
"I do! I do!" Toby swore. "Damn it all, Sally. I mean to say...."
"Bring me out ... make me miserable...." came the strangled littlevoice.
Toby was conquered. Sally knew that she had him at her mercy. She hadknown it all along. She had been enjoying herself, enjoying this secondquarrel as much as the first one, because she knew exactly what theoutcome would be. A quarrel is always worth while to a loving girl, forthe sake of the reconciliation. They were the sweetest moments of theday, because in them was begun the true softening of hearts and rousingof the emotions which later gave them so much delight. Toby and Sallywere happy all the rest of the afternoon and evening, and loved oneanother; and when it was dark, and none could observe them, Toby kissedSally with all the fervour that he had saved up in his long days awayfrom her. He kissed her lips and her cheeks and her eyes, and crushedthe life out of her with his powerful arms. And Sally, at firstlaughing, had grown quieter and quieter in his arms as her joy in hislove had deepened. They stood there, far above the river, in thegloaming, with the leaves whispering and slowly floating down throughthe air as they fell from above. Presently the moon rose, and in themoonlight the two wandered together, and forgot all their plans andambitions and jealousies. Both were given over entirely to the momentand to the passion of the moment, which was still as strong as it hadever been.
xiii
A fortnight passed. Gaga came and went. Sally had no word with him,because he could not speak to her in the workroom or in his mother'sroom, and because she never met him (as she half expected to do) in thestreet. Sally often thought of their evening together, but gradually, asGaga took no further step, she became sceptical about his plan, and shehardened towards him. Already her active mind was casting about for newoutlets. She visited Mrs. Perce, and repaid ten shillings of the amountshe owed her. She wrote to Toby, walked with Harry Simmons, hadconversations with Miss Summers and Muriel and Mrs. Minto. And so thedays passed. But at length Gaga took the awaited step. He met her oneevening, as if by accident, upon the stairs, and immediately stopped.She had gone past him when Gaga found his tongue, and checked Sally'sprogress by a stammering. She waited.
"Er ... I never ... see you now," he began. Sally looked up at his tallfigure, thrown sharply into relief by the clear light from a window uponthe stairs, and by the pale grey distemper of the wall behind him. Againshe noticed that creeping redness under the grey of his cheeks, and thealmost liquid appeal which he directed at her. "I ... er ... I meant toask you.... To-morrow...."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Bertram! I'd love to," cried Sally, quickly. He waspassionately relieved, as she could see. Not only by her acceptance ofhis intended suggestion, but at the salvation of his tongue.
"At the corner? Seven o'clock? At the corner? Where ... where ... wherewe met before? Really? Fine!" He nodded, and took off his hat, andclimbed the stair. Sally, very sedate, descended. Well, she was stillall right, then. How strange, she was quite cool! She was not at allelated! That was because of the delay, which had encouragedindifference; but it was also because the invitation was expected andbecause Sally was no longer to be shaken as she would have been by anovelty. She was ready. She was once again a general surveying thecertainties of combat with a foe inferior in resources to herself.
So the next evening she deliberately stayed later than the other girls,and worked on with a garment which had occupied her attention all theafternoon. She was doing some plain embroidery upon a silk frock. It wasupon this occasion that she received a great mark of favour from MissSummers. Miss Summers, trusting Sally entirely, showed her how to lockthe door after her. She had just to slip the catch, and slam the door,and nobody could enter the room without first using a key. And MissSummers went, leaving Sally alone in the workroom. It was a thinghitherto unknown. It showed trust which had never been given to one ofthe other girls. Apart from Madam and Gaga, if one or both of themshould still be working in Madam's room, Sally was at liberty, and insole occupation of the establishment. It did not occur to Sally to thinkso; but Miss Summers would never have given her this privilege if shehad not known that Madam also would approve. It would have been toodangerous a responsibility for Miss Summers unsupported. Madam musthave seen that petty theft was a thing which did not tempt Sally. Shewas too ambitious for that, and obviously so. Keen judge of character asMadam was she must have known it all. But neither Madam nor Miss Summerscould have realised--as both, with their experience of girls, shouldhave done--that there were possibilities other than theft. Sally hadlistened to the explanation of the door catch, and had promised to shakethe door when she left, so as to make sure that it was fast; but heronly conscious thought had been one of surprise and delight that sheshould be left alone. Alone to do as she pleased. Alone to sing, dance,loiter. Alone, perhaps, with Gaga. At that notion she had a curiouslittle thrill of excitement. Her eyes became fixed for a moment. She didnot speak, or give any other sign. She was not thinking. Merely, hergeneral awareness was pierced by a sudden ray.
Had she been sure that Gaga was by himself in the next room, Sally wouldhave found some excuse to go in there. It would have been such anopportunity as she had never had before. But although she went close tothe door, and listened eagerly, there was no sound within. The roommight have been empty. Or Madam might be there; and if Sally sang, whichwould please Gaga, Madam might come out, find her in the workroomwithout real excuse, and give her the sack. Sally was too wise tobelieve that in such a case Gaga could save her. She could imagine himstammering a defence, and being crushed, and perhaps being kind to herfor a little while and fussing about to find her a job elsewhere. Andthat would be the end of that. She neither sang nor whistled. Every nowand then she again listened, until she was impatient with uncertainty.Her impatience made her laugh. Fancy being impatient for seven o'clock!And for Gaga! It wasn't natural. It was--like Gaga himself--ridiculous.
Seven o'clock struck before she was ready; but Sally did not care. Shehad no objection to the thought of Gaga waiting in patience at thecorner of the street. Toby would have been a slightly different matter.Not that she was more afraid of Toby now than she was of Gaga. All thesame, she would not have kept him waiting. Neither Toby nor Gaga wouldhave kept Sally waiting. Toby would have been punctual; Gaga had beenstanding at the corner already for five minutes. It was a curious moraleffect that Sally had. She was not to be treated lightly. Even now, shewas learning her power, and in this case she was illustrating it. Shedid not join Gaga until she was satisfied that every smallest fold inher dress was in perfect order, her hat precisely at the desired angle,her gloves buttoned. Then, shutting the door with a steady bang whichrendered any shaking needless, she kept her appointment, not a timiddressmaker's assistant, but a woman of the world. At seventeen--for shehad not yet reached her eighteenth birthday, although it was now verynear--she was more of a woman of the world than she would be attwenty-eight, when her first intuitions had been blunted by actualexperience.
Gaga was standing thoughtfully leaning upon his walking stick. Hisshoulders were bent, and the slim, and rather graceful, outline of hisfigure made him appear almost pathetic in his loneliness. Sally--Sallythe hard and ambitious--was struck by a sharp irritation and pity,almost by compunction. She did not know what her feeling for Gaga was;but principally it was composed of contempt. He had good looks, and hehad money. He could help her at present as nobody else could do. But atheart Sally dismissed him with a word which, to her, was fatal. He wassoppy
. Not mad, not altogether stupid, but painfully lacking in vitalenergy and confidence. Of all things Sally best loved assurance, andGaga had none of it. He drooped in waiting, and the message of his fineclothes was contradicted by his pose, and not reinforced by it.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said perfunctorily, at his start ofrecognition and delight. Gaga's face changed completely. From one ofgloom, his expression became one of joy. "I didn't notice the time. Iwas working there alone-- Miss Summers had gone. I was finishingsomething. I didn't know if you'd gone or not. I couldn't hear anythingfrom Madam's room. Didn't like to knock, or anything."
Gaga said nothing. He walked by her side, and Sally looked up at himalmost as she might have done at a policeman or a lamp-post. He _was_tall, she thought, when he