Coquette

thesun."

  Gaga smiled gently. Sally came back to him and stood with her handruffling his thin hair. She too smiled, but with abstraction. She wasnumbed by illness and horror and the journey and her vision of the dirtymerciless water.

  xx

  When they had eaten their lunch, Sally helped Gaga to undress and lefthim in bed with the curtains again closed and the bedroom, thusdarkened, smelling close and dank, as if it were the haunt ofblackbeetles. When the curtains were drawn the whole room faded to auniformity of grey-brown, and the pictures and ornaments became dimshadows, and the mirror upon the dressing-table took upon itself amysterious air, as though in its depths one might read something of thehidden future. All was sunk in a sorrowful gloom, and thebarely-outlined recumbent figure of Gaga might have been that of a deadman. Upon tiptoe, Sally stole quietly from the room. For a little whileshe sat alone over a fire which had been lighted in the drawing-room;but the evening was beginning to cast darkness over everything; and inthe west the last hot reflections of the sun were cast upon two orthree casual clouds. Sally therefore rose, and took her hat and coat,which were lying near the piano. As it was the middle of the week, andin autumn, the hotel was almost empty, and would not be occupied withany visitors for two or three more days. It was a dull place once thesun had set. For a moment Sally hesitated in putting on her hat; but atlast she ventured forth, and was out in the greying street, and upon thebridge across the river. The water, as she hurried by, ran silentlybelow, blackened and threatening, and as there would be no moon thenight was coming with great darkness. Over the bridge Sally noticed theearly lights in the post office, and a few street lamps. One road ran alittle way up the hill and was immediately checked by houses. Anotherturned off to the north-west, and it was here that she would find a shopat which she could leave the prescription for Gaga's medicine. Once shehad performed her task Sally walked briskly on until she came to the endof the houses and into a road to the edges of which trees grew and grasscame irregularly running. Beneath the trees darkness already obliteratedall shape, and the fringes of the wood were so bare of leafage that shecould already look up to the grey sky between the boughs and their filmybranches. No vehicles passed. She was alone upon this broad road, withnothing upon either hand but unexplored depths of shadow and silence.Every now and then a stationary light spotted the dusk. She was appalledby her loneliness.

  Quickly as she had walked away from Penterby, Sally returned to the townwith even greater speed, warmed by the exercise, but chilled by herthoughts and perplexities. When she was alone, and so hemmed in bysinister darkness, Sally was brought quickly back to her forebodings.She remembered the solitary figure which she had left, and thought ofGaga was shrinking. Of Toby she could only find herself thinking withanger. Yet it was not wholly anger, for she was also afraid and filledwith longing. Her anger was even obliterated by her love, so much didshe adore Toby's strength. His cruelty, his brutal indifference, werespurs to her unreasoning affection. Whatever Toby might do, Sally lovedhim. The love which she had believed herself indignantly to have castout was still paramount. Finally, in all her fleeting considerations ofthe moment and the future, she could not ignore the baby which wascoming. She had no thought of it other than fear and loathing. Not yethad desire for a child created in her mind a new longing. If she couldhave killed it she would have done so; and she was prevented fromcontemplating this possibility only by the ignorance which inexperienceand friendlessness imposed upon her. Sally was awed and terrified by thegloom which gathered in her heart and about her. She sped onwards untilshe reached the bridge, and here for several minutes she uncontrollablypaused. All was now black, and the tide had turned. Already the waterwas flowing to the sea, and she could imagine the coagulated massesvaguely swirling beneath her, borne unresisting upon the outgoing tide.The hotel was in darkness, excepting for the room beneath the balconywhere the walls descended straight to the water and the mud. Here therewas a dim light. All above was sombre until she reached in her steadyupward glance the sky's faint background and saw its unfathomable archof grey.

  The bar of the hotel was empty. Unperceived, Sally went upstairs andinto the bedroom where Gaga lay. She closed the door behind her andswitched on the electric light. To her surprise Gaga was lying on hisside, and his face was turned towards her.

  "You awake?" she whispered. At his soft sound of greeting she wentforward and sat upon the bed. "It's half-past-four," Sally continued."Like some tea? Going to get up again?"

  "I.... I'm so tired," murmured Gaga. He had taken her hand, and held itto his cheek, so that Sally had to lean forward. In this mood he was solike a child that Sally's heart softened. She found him pathetic, andher own strength was emphasised by his weakness.

  "Better stay in bed," she said.

  "But you? Aren't you ... aren't you lonely?"

  "Mm. Nobody here. Nothing to do. I been for a walk and got frightened."

  "I'll get up. Yes, I will. After tea we'll walk along that av ...avenue. In the moonlight. Like your song."

  "There's no moon up yet," Sally told him, not moving. "You stay whereyou are. Stay nice and warm in bed. I shall be all right. I'll go for awalk along the avenue by myself."

  "And be f ... frightened again."

  "Shan't wait to be frightened," Sally said. "See me dart back!"

  Gaga fondled her hand and reached for the other one, which she patientlyyielded.

  "You ... you're so nice," he murmured. "So good to me."

  "I? Good?" Sally's shoulders were hoisted. She almost withdrew herhands.

  "Yes. But Sally.... I...." He was overcome, and could not proceed. Tearshad started to his eyes. "I haven't been sleeping. I've been thinking.Last night...."

  "Last night!" Sally convulsively jerked her hands away, and as quicklyrestored them.

  "You thought I'd ... I'd ... been ... been spying."

  "Of course you weren't. I was ill. I was a beast."

  "Sally, I never did. You ... you have a lot.... I've been thinking ... alot to put up with. Marrying a ... a sick man; and you...."

  Sally could not bear him to talk thus. She freed herself, and rose.

  "Here's a lot of talk!" she protested. "You get well, old son. Thenwe'll see."

  Gaga did not say anything for a moment. At last he spoke again.

  "Sally, would you ... would you mind very much if I did ... didn't getwell?" he asked.

  "Course I should!" But Sally was filled with alarm at this conversation.She turned upon Gaga, but she could not meet his soft eyes. "Here,you're talking silly!"

  "Sally.... I.... I wasn't spying," said Gaga, slowly. "But I.... I _did_see a man at the gate last night."

  Sally clutched the back of a chair. For a moment she thought she must begoing to faint. Then, with a tremendous effort, she controlled herself.

  "What d'you mean?" she demanded.

  "Behind you. _With_ you."

  "Never!"

  Gaga continued to regard her. His smile was no longer visible. She onlynoticed that he was paler, that his nostrils were pinched and his eyesdark.

  "I wish you'd tell me the truth," he said.

  "I tell you there was nobody _with_ me," lied Sally. "Nobody. There mayhave been a man behind me. I _did_ get a bit of a start. Somebody cameout of a gate. I didn't notice."

  "Sally.... I.... I heard him call you 'Sally.'"

  She was stricken with terror at his quietness.

  "Nobody called me Sally!" she cried. "I don't _know_ anybody."

  Gaga sighed, and his head fell sideways, so that he no longer looked ather. They spoke no more. She believed that he knew she had been lying;but she had been caught unawares, and could not retract her assertions.Without a further word she began to prepare a basin of water, and washedherself. Then she went to ask that tea might be brought to the bedroom.They drank the tea in silence, both very grave. When they had finished,Sally took the tray to the end of the passage, where there was aprojecting ledge, and then returned to the room.

  "Shall I go and si
ng to you?" she asked.

  "Not ... not now. Go for your wa ... walk. I shan't have any dinner.I'll just have a cup of cocoa."

  Cocoa! Sally was transfixed.

  "Oh, not _cocoa_!" she cried. "Not _cocoa_!" It was a desperate appeal.It came from the depths of her heart. She had been alarmed at hisspeech. She had been afraid of what he might do. But more than all shewas afraid of the horrible voice that had followed fear with itsimaginings of the means to her own salvation. At his further silence,she went quickly out of the room and out of the hotel. She walked at arapid pace along the avenue, where others