Coquette

the table.

  "Oh, money...." he said. "More than overtime. We'd.... I say, it'ssplendid of you. It's a splendid way to do it."

  "Would you like it?" breathed Sally, her heart beating faster at theimplication. Gaga reddened. His lips were pressed together.

  "It would be perfect!" he cried, vigorously.

  "How lovely!" Sally's face broke once more into that expressive grin.They sat smiling at each other, almost as lovers do who have stumbledupon an unsuspected agreement in taste. The mood lasted perhaps aminute Then it changed ever so slightly. "Would Madam mind?" next urgedSally.

  Gaga's face clouded. She was watching him breathlessly, and saw hisfists clenched. His tongue moistened the lips so lately compressed. Hishead was inclined. At last, dubiously, he spoke.

  "I wonder," he muttered. "I haven't said anything to her. I don'tthink...." His face fell still more, until it was undetermined. "I'mafraid.... I'm afraid ... perhaps she mightn't like it. You see, she's... she's ... rather.... She doesn't like anybody.... She mightn't quite... understand."

  Sally's contentment vanished abruptly. Her heart became fierce, and hertone followed. It was rough and hard, with a suggestion of despair andof something less than respect for Gaga.

  "It's no good!" she cried. "It's no good. I'm a girl. Girls can never doanything! A man can do all sorts of things; but, just because she _is_ agirl, a girl can't do one of them!"

  She was watching him all the time she was speaking, and only halfrealised that her indignation was warmly simulated in order to producean effect upon him and stiffen a wavering determination. For a momentGaga did not speak. He was turning the matter over in his mind, andSally saw the changes of opinion that passed across his face. Weakness,submission, obstinacy, bewilderment were all to be observed. Above all,weakness; but a weakness that could be diverted into defiance throughdread of her own contempt. The moment was desperate. Tears sprang toSally's eyes. She became tense with chagrin and stubbornness. A gesturewould have swept her wineglass to the floor.

  "Never mind!" she cried, savagely, now really moved to anger anddespair. "You see how it is! I always knew it wouldn't be any good. Knewit! Oh, I ought to have...."

  Gaga was roused. His voice, when he spoke, was strangled.

  "Don't be silly!" he cried. "We'll do it ... er ... we'll ... somehowwe'll do it." Sally waited, her anger cooling, a hope rising once againin her breast. Cruel knowledge of him surged into her thoughts. At lastthe determination she desired came from Gaga. He said, in a grim tone:"She needn't know. We won't tell her."

  Sally's eyes closed for a moment. As if she had willed this, she hadattained her end. No longer was there to be any doubt. They had anunderstanding. They were going to do something together which must bekept secret between themselves. She did not make even a tactical displayof unwillingness. She too greatly desired the end to endanger (though itshould be to confirm) her aim by any further display of finesse. It wasenough. She was hot in her glimpse of the triumph she had secured. Shewould be able to stay. The rest of their evening was now unimportant,because they had need only to speak of details, and of mattersunconnected with the plan.

  xiv

  Upon the day following this dinner and momentous conversation, Sally wasworking listlessly amid the hum of girls' chatter, which proceededunchecked while Miss Summers was out of the room, when she had asingular knowledge of something in store. She was struck almost by fear.Quickly she looked up, and across at Rose Anstey, and beyond Rose to thedoor of Madam's room. Miss Summers stood in the doorway, smiling, andbeckoning to Sally. Smiling--so it could not be anything.... Madamwanted Sally; but Madam would not tell Miss Summers.... Had she foundout about Gaga? Sally's heart was like lead. But Miss Summers wassmiling kindly and significantly, which she would not have done if shehad thought the interview promised to be unpleasant. Besides, Gaga hadsaid Miss Summers called Sally her best worker. It was nevertheless anervous girl who went into the room, heard the door close behind her,and found herself alone with Madam.

  The room was that tawny one in which Sally had first seen Madame Gala.It was lighted by one large window and it was not really a large room,although it contained Madam's enormous table and a bureau and a numberof shelves upon which reference books stood. It was very quiet and coolin summer, and warm in winter; and Madam sat at her writing desk in astylish costume unconcealed by any overall. Seated, she did not look soterrifyingly tall; but her faded eyes had still that piercing scrutinywhich had disturbed Sally at the first encounter. Her face was lined;her hair bleached and brittle; but the long thin nose, and hard thinmouth, and parched thin cheeks all gave to her glance a chilling qualityhard to endure. Her hands were those of a skeleton: all the bones couldbe seen white under the cream skin. Sally, abashed and full offlutterings of secret guilt, stood before her as she might have stoodbefore one omniscient; but her brain was not abashed, and her hearingwas as strained as her alert wits. So the two hard personalitiesencountered. Presently Madam smiled--a smile that was tortured, likeGaga's, and showed anaemic gums but a row of astonishingly good teeth.

  "Sally," she said. "Sit down there, will you. Now, you've been herenearly a year. D'you know that? You were seventeen when you came. You'reeighteen now.

  "Nearly," interjected Sally.

  "Well, when you came you had seven shillings a week. We're going to makeit ten shillings from now. And of course overtime as usual. Youunderstand that I don't want you to talk outside about your wages. Atthe end of what we call the financial year we may be able to give youmore. I can't promise that. But Miss Summers tells me that you are agood and willing worker; and I can tell for myself that you areintelligent. I think it will be worth while for you to stay here; and ifyou go on as you have begun I shall hope to keep you. Now don't get theidea that you're indispensable. Don't get conceited. But be encouragedby knowing that I take an interest in you. That will do, Sally, thankyou...."

  "Thank you, Madam," responded Sally, demurely. She stood in an attitudeof humility, a tremulous smile of candid satisfaction playing round hermouth.

  Nobody in the workroom could have guessed from her manner the turbulenceof Sally's emotions. Pleasure, relief, self-confidence struggled withinher. She felt an enormous creature surveying a pigmy world; and yet,mechanically, she resumed her sewing at the point where she had left it.The other girls all turned inquisitive faces in her direction. Was itthe sack? A row? A rise? Nothing at all? Sally was a baffling creature... a white-faced cocket. She was deep. That word of Miss Rapson's hadentered the hearts of the girls. Sally had heard it; she knew that theyfelt her superiority, and gaped at it with faint resentment. A flashtold her now that they were all on tiptoe, and her nonchalance was apiece of acting which she enjoyed for its effect upon the others. Shemost mischievously enjoyed her privilege. And she had a new cause fortriumph, a double success. She felt herself a schemer, an intriguer,which she was not. She was merely an opportunist, seizing the mainchance. Not only had she a secret understanding with Gaga; she had alsoa secret understanding with Gaga's mother. She was most marvellouslySally Minto. The world was open to her. It was not the extra threeshillings a week that intoxicated her: it was the sense of a difficultand engaging future. Her ambition had never been so strong. She turnedher thoughts to the miserable room at home, to her mother, to Mrs.Perce. She wandered afield to the dinners with Gaga, to her recent talkwith Madam. Not merely wealth, but power, seemed to lie ahead. She sawonce more Madam's bad health; the probable exaltation of Miss Summers.If she took care, she would presently lie in the very heart of thebusiness. Its accounts would be under her hand in the evenings; its workvisible to her eye in the daytime. Miss Summers liked her and trustedher; she was sure of her own ability, her own shrewdness; withoutdeliberately planning it, she had earned the good-will of the threepeople who really mattered, so far as her progress was concerned.

  What if Madam were away ill? What if she died? Sally trembled at theprospect. She trembled lest some accident should interfere with what wasotherwise inevitable. She knew that
with Miss Summers she had no rival;her compact with Gaga was secure, unless his weakness betrayed them.Even here, she knew she might rely upon his integrity. Gaga would keepto his word. Sally saw herself installed as bookkeeper--oh, if she wereonly older! If she were older, if she were twenty-five, she would holdthe business in the hollow of her hand. She was already learning how tospeak to the ladies who came to give orders; her shrewdness wouldquickly show her which were good accounts and which required watching;and her work never grew careless. With each perception Sally's brain andher capacity for adapting herself to every circumstance seemed toexpand. She was already much older