lane.Only her native resoluteness enabled her to show Gaga a false patience.Only her insensitiveness made his constant caress endurable. Sallyblinked sometimes at his grabbing sentimentality; but she already beganto slip neatly aside and avoid his carefully-planned contacts. She wasnot yet hard or perverse.
And while Gaga lay down in the afternoon, as she found he was in thehabit of doing, in order that his physical strength might last throughthe day, Sally found the empty drawing-room and with often-strained earsbegan the difficult task which she had set herself. Below her was thethick, powerful current of the now sinking river, laden with refusewhich flowed backwards and forwards past the hotel; and upon the windowsand casual brightnesses of the tall houses on the hill across the rivershe could see the crystal sparkling of reflected sunshine. She had afeeling that all about Penterby was open green country, sometimes flat,but always in the distance crowned and adorned with hills; and she knewthe brown of the river and the mud, and the green slime which decoratedthe wall opposite. It was unforgettable. She would always think of it.And her task was the writing of a letter to Toby. She had planned towrite to him upon this day--the first free day of her married life; andshe was bent upon keeping to her plan. He must be told at once, and yetas she held the pen above a sheet of plain paper she was stunned by theextraordinary difficulty of the composition. Only then, for the firsttime, did she grasp the definiteness of the step she had taken. Shewould never see Toby again. Never? Never--never--never. Sally's eyesfilled with tears. A thick, painful sob forced its way through her.Never.
She began to write. She put no address, but only, in her plainhandwriting, still that of a schoolgirl, the words "My dear." It was atthis point that Sally began to discard all the phrases which she hadearlier composed in her head. She considered that if she were never tosee Toby again it did not matter what he thought of her. The baldannouncement would do very well. It was best, and easiest, and safest.And then she knew again that she was afraid of Toby, and of what hemight do. She was a true woman in being unable to face a conclusion.She could not imagine that she would never see him again. It wasincredible. So incapable was she of realising the fact of a completebreak that she thought herself possessed by an instinct that they mustmeet and continue as before. Sally was much more afraid that he wouldkill her. It was the reason why she was putting no address at the headof the letter. He must not find her with Gaga. She wrote at last.
"My dear. I have been a bad wicked girl and married another man. Do not try to find me. I shall be all right. Find some other girl, and be happy with her. I shall never be happy without you. My husband is very kind and good. Don't forget me."
At the end of this letter she put no signature, but a single cross toindicate a kiss. Then she addressed an envelope, stamped it, slippeddown the stairs and along to the post office. By the time Toby got theletter she and Gaga would no longer be there; and he would not be ableto find her afterwards. London was so big. She was afraid of him, andyet she longed to see him again. Five minutes later she was back in thedrawing-room, seated at the piano, and singing softly in her clear voicethe song that had first so greatly charmed Gaga.
"'Your heart mine, and mine in your keeping, List while I sing to you love's tender song.'"
As she sang, Sally looked up and at the doorway. There, adoringly, stoodGaga, all his love making a radiance in his face which she had notpreviously seen so distinctly. He came slowly towards her, and as shecontinued her song he kissed the back of her neck where the hair wasbrushed up in the first soft incalculable wave. Sally for the firsttime shrank a little; but she pursued her song unhesitatingly, soschooled was she in her determination that the price she was paying wasto be borne.
"'When you and I go down the love path together, Stars shall be shining and the night so fair.'"
"We'll go ... go walking in the moonlight to-night ... shall we?"whispered Gaga. Sally nodded, making her voice quaver by the motion.Gaga could not see her face; but Sally knew that even if he had done sohe would have been quite unable to read her thoughts, which were dry andinflexible. He remained by her side until she had finished the song, andthen fiercely pressed her head back until he was able by stooping tokiss her lips from above. His hand was under her chin. He kissed hermany times, oppressively--little ravenous pecks that were febrile ratherthan loving; and assertive of his new proprietorship. His kisses leftSally unmoved and slightly frowning. She was surprised at Gaga'ssimplicity in imagining that any girl valued or could possibly valuesuch ceaseless demonstrative action, such ugly hard little parrot-likecaresses.
"Only a soppy kid would," she thought. "She'd like it, I suppose. Thinkquantity meant love. It doesn't. Like a beak. Silly fool!" And aloud shesaid quite firmly: "There, that's enough. Shan't have any face left, atthis rate. I shall come out in spots. What's the time?"
To soften her words she held and pressed his hand; but only for aninstant. Then she rose abruptly from the piano and walked over to thewindow. With his arm immediately at her waist Gaga followed, like along, abject greyhound.
"The tide's out," he said, indicating the sun illumined mud by theopposite wall.
"Ugh!" shuddered Sally. "Fancy getting your feet in that stuff! You'dnever get out.... Gives me the horrors, it does!" She leaned back intohis arms.
iv
They left Penterby by a very early train on the Monday morning, andwhile Gaga took the two bags to an hotel where the Merricks were to stayfor the present Sally went direct to Madame Gala's. She had obtainedspecial permission to be an hour late in the morning, and so she enteredthe workroom without confusion. It was the same as it had alwaysbeen--the long benches, and the girls, and Miss Summers sitting apart,as plump and feline as ever. There was, of course, curiosity aboutSally. Few of the girls supposed that she had been away with a girlfriend, which had been the story; and all looked at her with a knowingsuspicion. Only Miss Summers was completely trusting. Sally had slippedoff her wedding-ring, and it lay in her purse. She took in the wholescene as she entered, and measured the assumptions of the girls withcool indifference. But she would have done that in any case; for Sallyhad nothing to learn about workgirls and their thoughts andinterpretations, and she had also none of the false self-consciousnesswhich makes wrong-doers imagine that their actions have beenprovidentially revealed to all observers. Had she and Gaga arrivedtogether the case would have been different; but nothing had occurred tomake the girls suppose that there was any relation between them, andSally was perfectly safe from that most dangerous of all recognitions.She was still, to the girls, Sally Minto; and to some of them still thewhite-faced cocket of Rose Anstey's jealous outburst. Sally lookedboldly at Rose as she sat industriously working. Then, with greaterstealth, at Miss Summers. That plump face had a solemnly preoccupiedexpression that gave Sally a faint start of doubt. Immediately, however,she knew that Miss Summers must be worried, not upon Sally's account,but on account of some message respecting Madam which had been receivedearlier in the morning. This made her seize an excuse to approach MissSummers.
"How's Madam?" she whispered, surreptitiously.
Miss Summers shook her head with foreboding.
"Still the same. No better; no worse. Sally, I'm _afraid_."
Sally looked down at Miss Summers. How strangely their relation had beenaltered by this weekend's doings! Wherever Sally glanced she knew thatwhat she saw was now potentially her own. By the simple act of marryingGaga she had become, as it were, mistress of the place. And she knew it.She knew it plainly and without swollen conceitedness. Not yet was herpower unquestionable; but it was none the less genuine. Even MissSummers....
"I hope she gets better," said Sally.
Miss Summers shot a quick glance upwards. She started, and a faintredness came into her plump cheeks. The tip of her nose was irritated,and she rubbed it with her knuckle.
"Oh, I do _hope_ so," breathed Miss Summers. "It would be awful--awfulfor all of us--if she didn't. You see...."
"She'll have to die some time," remarked Sally.
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"But now!" The head was shaken afresh. Miss Summers gave a heavy sigh.She had no such youthful confidence as Sally's. She was a born follower,a born sheep; and with Madam removed she could see nothing ahead butdisaster to the business. Sally had a little difficulty in keeping backher smile. She thought of this poor old pussycat in fear of her life,and her lip slightly curled at the knowledge that she alone had superiorknowledge of the situation. Already Sally was casting round for channelsin which her new power might be used. She wanted opportunity. It wasboth a chagrin and a secret relief to her that Madam could not yet betold of the marriage. If she knew it, and disapproved, as Sally knewthat she must do, Madam could at any moment annul Sally's hopes oftaking a leading part in the business. She