Coquette

but shining interior.Within, all was grey and white. Sally led the way into the place, and toa remote table, and seated herself with an air of confidence remarkablein one who dined, as it were, for the third time only. She glanced atthe two waitresses--both very dark girls with earrings, who wore theirblack hair coiffed high upon their heads. They were Italians, agreeableand inquisitive; and the food-smells also were Italian and fullflavoured. As soon as the two were seated they became the property ofone of the two waitresses, who stood over them so maternally that sheseemed to have no desire but for their good-fortune in choosing the mealaright. She plunged both Sally and Gaga into a muddle by her persuasivetranslations of the menu, but she made up for her linguisticdeficiencies by this anxious interest and by a capricious smile. Scaredand curious, they looked round the plain grey walls of the clean littleroom, and at the four or five other people who sat near them, and at theceiling, and at each other.

  "It's funny!" whispered Sally, exultingly. "Never seen anything likeit."

  "I.... I've never seen one ... so ... so clean," stammered Gaga.

  Near them a conceited young man with a hard voice and small eyes wastalking impressively to an untidy-looking girl in green with a mauvechiffon scarf. While he talked, the girl smoked his cigarettes, andinterjected remarks of superior quality. Sally heard her say "Ah," insign of agreement, and once "Oh, yes, of course Flaubert...."

  "What's Flaubert?" she asked Gaga. He appeared startled.

  "Er ... I don't know," he answered. "What put it into your head?"

  "That girl said it. Listen." They listened. The young man was arguingabout something. He was arguing about something of which neither Sallynor Gaga could discover the purport. Sally said: "They're both woolly.Woolly-wits, they are. Both got maggots. What's 'art,' anyway? Pitchers?And all that about values?"

  Gaga was buried. He had a sudden inspiration.

  "Don't listen to them," he said. "It's something they ... theyunderstand."

  "I bet they don't," remarked Sally. "You don't talk about things youunderstand."

  "Well, let's talk about what _we_ don't understand...." He wasbeseeching in his tone, and his soft eyes glowed. The waitressapproached, bearing two large plates piled high with spaghetti.

  "Golly!" ejaculated Sally. "Howjer eat it? Fingers?"

  They had little time to talk while they were engaged with the capers ofthis surprising food; but when both were tired of playing with thespaghetti they turned their attention to the straw-covered bottle ofChianti which had been brought. Sally made a wry mouth at her firstventure. She had yet to learn that the wine was heavier than any she hadyet drunk. She strained her ears to catch more of what thefascinatingly conceited young man was saying about his inexhaustibletopic. Good-looking boy, if he cut his hair and shaved his moustacheoff. She saw Gaga look anxiously and wonderingly across at her, with akind of hunger; and she was shaken by a mischievous notion. She hadnever done such a thing before, but she put her foot forward so that ittouched one of his, and smiled right into Gaga's chocolate eyes. Theslow red crept up under his skin, and they had no need to talk. Sallywas laughing to herself, and eating some beautifully cooked veal, andshe knew that Gaga was glowing with contentment. She at last observedthe two talkers slouch out of the restaurant, the man in verybaggy-kneed trousers and a loose coat, and the girl in a dress of homemake. A quick wrinkle showed in Sally's grimacing nose as she broughther professional eye to bear; and then the two talkers were gone andwere forgotten. Sally and Gaga were quite alone at their end of theroom, in a corner, favorably remote for intimate conversation from theremaining diners.

  "Funny us not knowing what they were talking about," mused Sally. "Youdon't, you know. It's very hard to know what anybody talks about. Tounderstand it, I mean. Hard to know anybody, too."

  "I shouldn't have thought I was hard to know," ventured Gaga.

  "I wasn't thinking about you," said Sally, with unconscious cruelty. "Iwas thinking.... I've forgotten. Isn't this wine sour! No, I'm gettingused to it--getting to like it. Hasn't half-- I mean, it's got a nicesmooth way of going down." As Sally checked herself she realised thatshe was now so much at ease with Gaga that she no longer worried abouther pronunciation or her words when she was with him. Worry? Sally'sconceitedness soared into the air and frowned down upon the falteringGaga with something like scorn. Poor Gaga! thought Sally. Instantly herhardness returned, and she looked at his lined face and the pale lipsthat hung a little away from his teeth in sign of ill-health. She sawhis dark grey morning coat, and the slip inside the waistcoat, and hissober tie. And it seemed to Sally that she saw right into the simplemind of Gaga. He was so simple, like the hire purchase system. He wasabout the simplest man she had ever seen, for his tongue could hardlyutter more than the tamest of words and phrases, and he never seemed toSally to keep anything back.

  "And yet, you know," she went on, following Gaga's remark and this trainof thought, "there's lots more to know about people than just what yousee--and what they do and say. If you know them ever so well, you onlyknow a bit of them. You don't know me. You think I'm a little girl inthe workroom, and a worker, and all that."

  "I think you're a marvel!" ejaculated Gaga.

  "Yes, well, when you've got to the end of thinking I'm a marvel, whathappens? You don't _know_ me any better. I might be a poisoner, or a ...or a...." Sally's invention failed her. "I might keep a shop, or serve abar, or be an actress," she went on, recovering fertility. "I mean, inthe evenings."

  "Yes," said Gaga, dubiously. "I suppose you might." He was struck with arather superfine notion. "But you're not," he concluded. He enjoyed amanifest triumph.

  "No." Sally raised a declamatory finger. "But if I _was_, you wouldn'tknow it."

  They had reached an impassable spot in their talk. Sally had confoundedGaga. Neither he nor she was quite as mentally alert as they had bothbeen when hungry; and the Chianti was beginning to make them drowsy andrather slow-witted. But having embarked upon the question of possibleknowledge of character they could not, in consideration of their slightheaviness, be expected to relinquish a topic so circular and sosuggestive of personal intimacy. As the wine acted more powerfully uponthem it was more and more to themselves that their thoughts and speechesturned.

  "I feel sometimes that I'm a great fool," confessed Gaga. "But I'm notreally a fool. I see a lot, and ... I don't seem able to act on it.D'you understand what I mean?"

  "Weak," Sally vouchsafed, wine-candid. Gaga glanced quickly at her.

  "I don't think I'm weak. I...." His thoughts strayed. "See, I've neverhad much of a chance to show what I can do. My mother's such a muchstronger character than I am."

  Sally nodded, and sipped again at the thick glass from which she wasdrinking.

  "I'm strong," she said. "I'm hard ... tough. If I make up my _mind_...."

  "Yes. I'm like that," insisted Gaga. It was so preposterous that Sallycould only look measuringly at him with a puzzled contempt that mighthave been read.

  "I'm stronger'n you are," she answered. "I'm small; but I don't mindwhat I do. You're a _good_ boy. I'm not. I'm bad. I'm ... you don't knowwhat goes on in my head." Suddenly exasperated, she went on: "That'swhat I meant. You think I'm just a quiet little thing. I'm not. Youdon't know _what_ I think about. I want to do all sorts of things. Iwant to be rich, and have a good time, and have lots of ... lots of_power_. I want to get on. If anybody gets in my way I push 'em out ofit. If anybody gets in _your_ way you stand aside."

  "I don't. I get my own way, but not by fighting," Gaga said.

  "Oho! I don't fight," retorted Sally. "They're afraid to fight me."

  Gaga smiled.

  "They're afraid of hurting you," he suggested. "But I know just what youmean." His confidence was unshakable.

  "I kick 'em in the stomach," Sally asserted. "Anywhere."

  "Yes. They wouldn't take liberties with you."

  "Not unless I wanted them to," said Sally, abruptly sober. "Theywouldn't try it on. None of the girls ever worry me. When I first camet
hey did. They were saucy. I soon stopped that. I got a tongue, and theyfound it out. Now Miss Summers----"

  "Don't let's talk about the business," pleaded Gaga. Sally was arrested.

  "Funny!" she exclaimed. "We haven't, have we!"

  "It's so much nicer being ... friends."

  One of Gaga's hands was stretched across the table. With a sense ofmischief Sally allowed him to take her own hand. Then she moved itquickly.

  "They're looking at us," she whispered to him. "Those waitress girls."Instantly she was free. She had the thought that a real man would haveheld her hand for a moment longer. All the same, she enjoyed her powerover Gaga. The little unreadable smile that so excited him was upon herface, and the knowledge of power was in her heart.

  They sat for a little while over coffee; and then Sally began to put onher gloves. A few minutes later they were out in the dark street, andpausing to discover the points of the compass. As they stood, a greatgust of wind came sweeping along from the southeast, and at its onsetthe two became strangely embraced, Gaga's arm being round Sally, and thebrim of her hat against his breast. They both laughed, and Sally stoodupright; but she did not move so violently that Gaga must withdraw hisarm. She was amused and elated at contact with him. Gaga, encouraged,drew her closer.

  "Oo!" murmured Sally. She let him see her laughing face.

  Gaga, very excited, lowered his head. Sally jerked her own head upon oneside with lightning speed, and felt his lips clumsily upon her ear.Twice he kissed her convulsively hugging her to his side. Then Sally,rather breathless, but not at all discomposed, pulled herself away.

  "Now, now; that's enough," she said. They were both grinning; but of thetwo only Sally was cool. She could tell that Gaga was tremblingslightly, and when a little later they parted he held her hand for along time, and sought timidly to draw her to him again for another kiss.Sally, however, ignored the pressure, and left him standing in theyellow shop and street lights, while she rode securely homeward in heromnibus. Her last glimpse was of newspaper bills lying upon thepavement, and of men and women in motion against the lights, and Gagastanding watching her out of sight. Then she looked round the omnibus,at some other girls, and an old man who wore two waistcoats, and theconductor; and her face again puckered into a smile.

  "Doesn't half think he's a devil," she thought, demurely.

  Then other thoughts of Gaga arose, and Sally frowned a little. She had asudden feeling that she was on difficult ground. She was not afraid, notnervous; but her imaginings darted swiftly here and there at the biddingof a knowledge that she must not at this juncture make any false step.

  xvii

  All the way home Sally had the one subject, the one series ofspeculations, hammering at her attention. She was again sensible; shewas shrewd and perceptive. Gaga was a funny old stick, she thought;funny and weak and nice. She could play upon him with ease. A touch, andhe was thrilled; a kiss, and he was beside himself. And yet what did hewant--what did he _think_ he wanted? And what did Sally herself want?She did not know. She felt at a loss, excited and almost wanton. Yet somuch depended upon all this that she dared not make a mistake. Gaga'sgood-will was of enormous importance. In his hands lay some of herfuture. If she could help him, earn rewards, understand the business,she could master everything. And Madam--what if Madam died? Supposingshe suddenly died, and left Gaga in control of the business, what wouldhappen? Sally hoisted her shoulders in doubt. Gaga might sell the wholething. He might run it himself. He would keep Miss Summers....

  "Oh, I wish I was older!" cried Sally, impatiently. "I could do it, butthey wouldn't let me. They'd think I couldn't. I could! Not all at once,but in a little while. If he'd hold on. Supposing he ... wants me...."Her thoughts flitted away. She had a quick picture of Gaga as a lover,of herself managing everything by keeping him at her side with cajoleryand parsimoniously-yielded delights. But he might grow tired of her; andthen where would she be? Sally did not trust men now; she too clearlysaw that once they were no longer tantalised they were liable to becomesated and uneager. She was face to face with that speculation here. Itall depended upon Gaga, upon the strength of her hold upon him. Couldshe so play that she reaped all the advantage she needed without givinganything at all? She was desperately tempted. She so greatly craved thepower which only Gaga could give her. Well, what did he want? It was notenough that she should recognise her power to excite him: she neededmuch more than a few odd favours. And she was afraid to do anything toforce him to grant whatever he could. In any case, what could he giveher? She was too observant to be deceived as to his powerlessness. Shesaw him as a cypher; but as one who might one day--perhaps quitesoon--own the whole business. Who else was there to make him do anythingwith it? There was nobody. Sally knew her own strength. What she couldnot guess was the best means of using it to her own advantage.

  She arrived home to find her mother in bed, with her short grey hairscantily bedecking the pillow. At Sally's entrance, Mrs. Minto openedweary eyes, and looked at her with a sort of hatred. Sally knew theexpression: it was full of suspicion and dread and solicitude, theresult of Mrs. Minto's lonely evening of speculation.

  "Hullo, ma!" she cried, recklessly. "Here I am. And I haven't beenworking. And there's nothing to fuss about. And that's all about that."

  "Where you been?" sternly demanded Mrs. Minto.

  "Well," began Sally, "if you _must_ know, Madam's worse. She's ill.Think she's going to die. And I been talking to Mr. Bertram, and givinghim good advice. I'm a mother to that man. What he'd do without me Ican't think."

  "Oo, Mr. Bertram!" It was clearly a warning cry. "Mr. Bertram! Oo,Sally!"

  "Soppy, ma. We call him 'Gaga.' He's weak, you know. Cries over hiswork, like a kid. Wants somebody to give him a bit of backbone."

  "Confidence," suggested Mrs. Minto, intrigued by the picture. She saidno more, but rolled over and stared at the dim wall until sleep creptupon her and annulled her reflections.

  Sally was struck by the word. Confidence! That was what Gaga needed!Half the time he was afraid of his own shadow. Quickly her brainrefashioned the meal she had had with Gaga. Poor lamb, he hadn't got anyconfidence! Madam had kept him down. He wanted rousing. Once get hisblood up, and he might do something really.... For the first time Sallywas genuinely interested in Gaga. She had never honestly thought ofhelping him for his own sake. All she had thought of was her own future.And now her mother had put Gaga in a new light. Sally almost thoughtwell of him. He might be rather bigger than she had supposed. What if hewere?

  Yes, but what did Gaga want of Sally? You don't kiss a girl because sheis anything but a girl. It was a profundity. Gaga had kissed Sallybecause....

  Sally turned away to hide from any glance of her sleeping mother thegleeful smile which had made her face radiant. She had been kissedbecause she had encouraged Gaga to kiss her; but he was so timid that hewould never have done it if he had not very greatly desired to kiss her.She wondered what he thought about her. He talked of their being"friends"; he was half silly about her; he had kissed her and had wantedto kiss her again. Having begun, he would want to go on kissing her. Andthen, what? He would be afraid to kiss her at their next meeting; but hewould all the time be watching his opportunity to do so. Was Sally goingto give him his opportunity? Was she going to give him the confidencenecessary for the task of using his opportunity? She was still gay,still amused and self-confident; but there was a doubt in her eyes. Shewanted to know more. She wanted to know all that was still hidden fromher. All the same, during the whole of her questioning of Gaga'sultimate aspirations, she never once lost the consciousness that thenext step lay with herself. Was she going to give him that necessaryconfidence?

  "Oh, I think so," thought Sally, deliberately; and smiled almost tolaughter as she lay with her face upon the pillow and was aware of thewhole of her warm body, from the tip of her nose to her round heels andthe eager fingers bunched close to her breast. "I think so...." sherepeated, with more humorousness. She had a vision of Gaga with hischocolate eyes gl
owing into her own as the result of the wine and hisproximity to herself. She saw his thin lips stretched, and the faint redunder his grey cheeks, and his thin hair. She felt his lips clumsilykissing her ear, the nervous clutching of his arms. Sally was pleased.She knew that sleep was almost upon her, and heard Mrs. Minto's deepbreathing a foot away from the back of her head. Yawningly, she snuggledmore comfortably into her pillow, and as consciousness slipped away adistant murmur seemed to repeat: "Yes ... yes.... I ... think so." In amood of expectant triumph she slept, sure for the moment of the courseof future events.

  xviii

  All the next day Sally's nerves were on edge. She had slept heavily, andhad awakened unrefreshed. She had made her way to Madame Gala's in atame morning mood, once again self-distrustful, very much waiting uponevents. The sight of Nosey checking the times of arrival, and still morethe gloomy aspect of a half-empty workroom, chilled her. Miss Summerslooked spiteful, Rose Anstey