Coquette

pleasantcircumstances. He began to think of reasons why they should not go awayat all. He spoke with regret of the new flat, of their preparations ...even of the business. But already Sally was upon her feet. A fewminutes later she was telephoning to Miss Summers explaining the suddenchange of situation; and then immediately began to pack. It was not adifficult task. She herself had few things to take away. Presently Gagajoined idly in the work; and the two of them neatly folded his clothesand slipped into his dressing-case the articles he was bound to needwhile they were away.

  "My medicine!" exclaimed Gaga, clutching at an excuse.

  "Got enough for to-day; and I've got the prescription." Sally was grim.She was more--she was driven by instinct. It was essential that theyshould go immediately. For one thing Toby might return, and any thoughtof Toby was so horrible to her at this moment, when her first hatred wasgiving way to uncontrollable longing for him, that it was like ascourge. And for another thing Sally was in terror of the nightmaretemptation. She was fighting against that with all the strength thatremained. Even now, if she looked at Gaga, she shuddered deeply.

  "What's the time?" called Gaga.

  "Miriam ... telephone for a cab!" Sally was simultaneously givinginstructions to a servant. She went to a desk in which she kept money,and found that she had very little remaining. "Bert, got any money?Well, your cheque book?"

  "In the study."

  It was a fatal word, so carelessly spoken, but like a blow in its sharprevival of something that was being suppressed. Sally hurried to thedoor of her bedroom. As suddenly, she stopped dead. The study! In a waveall her memory of the previous night's wicked temptation came back toher. It was only with a great effort that she went further. More than amoment passed in a silent struggle. Almost blindly, she entered thestudy, and its chill atmosphere was tomb-like in its effect upon her.Again Sally shuddered. Groping, she found Gaga's cheque book, and turnedagain to the door. The walls of the tiny room seemed to riseforbiddingly around her, to come closer, to begin to topple over as ifin ruin. Sally gasped for breath. She cowered. Everything becamedark.... A long time passed before she was again conscious. Clasping thecheque book, Sally felt her way unsteadily, with her eyes closed, untilshe stood upon the threshold. She was breathing slowly and deeply, andshe could see nothing. And at last, fighting still, but incapable ofconquering the stronger influence which was being exercised upon herwill, she went back into the room, and stood there with her face towardsthe cupboard. Quietly, as if on tiptoe, she passed in a dream to thecupboard and unfastened it, and without ever once looking about amongthe other contents of the shelf put her hand upon the fatal tin whichshe had found while looking for Gaga's cocoa. With this tin in her handshe hastened back to her room, closing the door as silently as she hadopened it. The tin was quickly laid among her clothes, right in thecorner of her dressing-case, hidden from any prying eye. Then Sallystraightened herself, listened and bent down again to fasten the bag.Within ten minutes she and Gaga were out of the house, sitting in a taxion their way to Victoria Station. Sally pressed herself back in thecorner of the cab, not touching Gaga, so that nobody should see her; andat the station she was on fire until they were settled in the railwaycarriage and the train was slipping gently out from the platform. Thenat last she sighed deeply, as if with relief, and the corners of hermouth drooped until she looked like a little girl who was going to cry.The houses became blurred.

  xix

  Gaga and Sally reached Penterby in a very different mood and a verydifferent state of health from that which had marked their arrival onthe previous visit. The station, with its confusing platforms andconnecting bridges, was by now familiar to Sally, and she was able toturn at once to a porter and give him instructions. Whereas before theyhad walked the short distance between the station and the hotel theywere now forced to take an open, horse-drawn, cab. It stood waiting whenthey reached the small station yard, the horse still nibbling feebly atdropped oats upon the paving and with its breath blowing them fartheraway. The few little cottages near the station were passed in aninstant, and the old-fashioned main street of Penterby, reached after ashort run between a hedge upon one side and a tall wooden paling uponthe other, was about them. Above, the sky was brilliantly blue. In frontthe houses rose towards the hill-top as of old. There was peace here, ifSally could find it. And she could see the bridge, and the ivy-coveredhotel, and the gold-lettered board. She sat as if crushed in her seat inthe cab, staring out at the hotel with an expression of strain andeagerness. Beside her Gaga, tired by the journey, yawned behind his longhand, his hat tilted over his eyes, and his mouth always a little open.It was a strange return, and Sally had ado to preserve any lightness ofstep and tone as she jumped down from the cab and went into the hotel.As before, she noticed the silence and emptiness of the small bar, andthe room beyond; and as she tapped loudly Mrs. Tennant came from anotherroom. This time it was Sally who took charge of everything. Gaga droopedin the background, a feeble figure. But he gathered strength to smile atMrs. Tennant and to greet her.

  "I'm not well, Mrs. Tennant," he said. "I've come to get ... get ... getwell. My wife's ill, too. You ... you must be very kind to us."

  "My!" exclaimed Mrs. Tennant, in a fat voice of concern. Her swollenlips were parted in dismay. "But you _both_ look so bad! Of course: youcan have the same room you had before. Come up!"

  She led the way. Sally again caught a glimpse of the drawing-room carpetin its brilliant mixture of reds and blues and yellows, and wasimmediately afterwards drawn into the old dark bedroom opening upon theglass-covered balcony. She stood in dismay, suddenly regretful that theyhad come to be stifled there.

  "Can we have some lunch?" she asked. "My husband's...."

  "Of course." Mrs. Tennant's geniality was benignant. But in her eyesthere remained that unappeasable caution which Sally had previouslynoticed. "At once."

  Sally slipped out of the room with her. They stood in the narrow drabpassage--two black-clothed figures notably contrasted in age anddevelopment. Mrs. Tennant was so stout, and Sally so slim, that thedifference between them was emphasised by the similarity of clothing.

  "My husband's mother's dead. He was awfully fond of her. He's been illever since, and the doctor said he'd better come away."

  "You're ill yourself, you know, Mrs. Merrick," exclaimed Mrs. Tennant.

  "I've been nursing him a month--night and day. He's not strong. We'dbarely got back when she died. What with his illness, and thebusiness--it's been terrible!"

  Sally was watching Mrs. Tennant--she did not know why. She feltdefensive. All was the result of her own position and the dreadfulknowledge which she had of her last night's temptation. She looked likea young girl, but so pale and hollow-eyed that she would have arousedpity in any woman of experience.

  "But it's _you_. I know Mr. Merrick. I've often seen him queer. Butyou're so changed. When you were here before...."

  "I know. I'm ill."

  "I said to my sister how strong and bright you were. We both thoughtyou'd make a--well, a _new_ man of Mr. Merrick."

  "It's only his mother's dying like that. He was worried about her, andthen she died; and he just went to pieces. He had to be put to bed atonce. I'll put him to bed again as soon as we've had something to eat.He's so _weak_. It's the change he wants, and the fresh air."

  "And you too, my dear." Mrs. Tennant seemed really to be kind.

  "When he's asleep I'll go for a walk. I'll soon be well." Sally wasreassuring; but she was made aware of her own weakness by having hadattention drawn to the appearance of it.

  They parted with smiles. Sally made as if to re-enter the bedroom; but,instead, she went through the drawing-room and on to the balcony. Theriver was running swiftly up-stream, so that the thick mud was hidden.Back along its course came little floating masses of collected material,like miniature islands in progress up and down the river. Sally stoodwatching one of these masses, until it grew indistinct as the result ofher intentness. The sun was making the houses beyond the river glitteranew, and the w
hole town was beautified in its light. A feeling of greatmisery seized Sally. She stared down at the discoloured stream, and hereyes filled with tears. She was again consumed with a sense ofloneliness; and a faint horror of the returning tide caused her to breakonce again from her contemplation, to walk back through thedrawing-room, and to rejoin Gaga. He was sitting upon the bed, regardingwith a vacant expression the two dressing-cases which had been broughtup to the room and which stood together against the wall. The room wascold and dark. Sally impulsively went to the French windows opening uponthe balcony and drew back the curtains.

  "There now," she said. "You're going to get better. You can see