xvii

But all the time, although she seemed to ignore him, Sally with a part of her consciousness was listening and watching. She dreaded to hear the groan of the gate upon its rusted hinges, the noise of a knock, or the gentle sound which the front door would make if Gaga accepted her challenge. Her heart was almost silent as she waited, and then, as the minutes passed without interruption, her relaxation was half relief and half disappointment. Something within her had craved this crisis which had not arrived. Some sensual longing for violence was frustrate. Sally was alone with Gaga, and Gaga, humble and obedient, was in her track, coming slowly and affectionately after her. As she saw from the landing the top of his dark, grey-streaked head she almost screamed with fury. It was in that moment that aversion for him rose in a tumult from her heart. She hated Toby, but for his base cruelty alone. She hated Gaga for his inescapable possessiveness and gentle persecution. It was a horror to Sally in her abnormal condition. She began to run up the next flight of stairs, and tripped upon her skirt. The stumble brought some little sense to her. She rose, holding the balustrade. Shot through and through with bitterness as she was, she yet clutched at sanity. When Gaga came abreast of her Sally took his arm; and they completed the journey together.

"Sorry I was beastly," she said, with a little pinch of the arm. "Got the jumps."

"I know.... I know," whispered Gaga. "We'll go away. We'll go very ... very soon."

"Now?" Sally demanded. "To-morrow? Could we go to-morrow?"

"Well ... well, perhaps not ... to-morrow. The day after?" He was hesitant, and did not oppose her. Sally's lip curled. What a man! Yes ... yes ... yes; but the baby! She was again desperately shaken.

"Why not to-morrow?" she cried, almost spitefully. "Why hang about?"

Gaga wavered. He began to kiss her. His hands, holding hers, were clammy. She had a glimpse of the black space under his eyes, and the swollen yellowness of the whites of his eyes, and his grey cheeks, so lined and creased, and the dreadful salmon colour of his dry lips. In his arms though she was, Sally shuddered violently, aversion recurring with such strength that she could not control her repugnance. This was her husband—her husband. Her eyes were strained away from him.

"You're cold," Gaga murmured. "Poor little girl.... You're ... you're cold."

"Yes, I'm cold," agreed Sally, with a violent effort for grim self-repression. "That's what's the matter with me. I stayed out too long. I oughtn't to have gone out this evening." She again laughed slightly, her laugh so sneering that even Gaga looked up as though he had been startled.

"We'll go to bed early," he said. "It's cold to-night. Let's have something hot, and go to bed. We can't have ... have you falling ill. It's nursing me that's made you ... queer."

"Yes, it's all my nursing." Sally spoke in a dry voice, and when he released her she went over to the fire without heeding Gaga, and looked down at its brightness. Still her ears were alert to catch some violence below; and as there was none her heart sank once more. Toby was gone. She had dismissed him and he had gone. She was more forlornly alone than ever. If Gaga had not been with her she must have sought relief in some physical effort, some vehement thumping of the mantelpiece and a burst into wild crying. The repression which Sally was forced to exercise tortured her. The agony she suffered was almost unbearable. Her mouth was stretched in a horrible grimace, so poignant was her feeling.

"I.... I'd like something hot," Gaga proceeded, in innocence. "Some ... some cocoa ... or...."

"I'll get you some." It was with passionate exasperation that Sally spoke; but she was thankful to know that she might leave him for a few minutes. The room seemed to stifle her. She plunged to the door, walking past Gaga with her head averted, so that he might not see her face. The stairs were cold, and she was upon the ground floor in an instant. A servant, called from below, came slowly to receive instructions; but there was no cocoa in the house. Nothing? No coffee? Nothing of the kind was available. Still thankful for the opportunity of turning her mind to details, Sally hurried upstairs again. Gaga was already half-undressed, and stood in front of the fire folding his coat. His thinness was grotesque in the bright light of the gas.

"Oh dear!" he cried. "I wanted it."

"All the shops'll be shut now," declared Sally.

Gaga thought for a moment, his face drawn. He was forced to sit down upon the edge of the bed.

"I.... I used ... used to have cocoa in my ... my study," he said.

"I'll look." Sally went down to the half-landing and into the small room which Gaga had always used for evening work before his marriage. It was quite tiny, and there was a gas fire there, and an armchair, and above the fireplace were some small shelves with a few books upon them. Upon other shelves were many tins and packets and bottles, most of them containing preparations handled by the firm in which Gaga had an interest. Strange: she had not had to trouble at all about that! The room was very cold, and Sally shivered as she stood examining the contents of the shelves. The tins and packets were all in confusion, large and small jostling one another; and many had their descriptive labels turned to the wall. Sally read upon some of them words the meaning of which she could not understand. Nearly all of them were chemicals relating to the enrichment of soil or to the general improvement of farm produce. Some were quite tiny, with little crystals in them. Others were large, and still within wrappings. She hurriedly read the lettering, darted away to the cupboard, back again to the shelves, and once more to the cupboard. Here there was a litter of papers also, for Gaga was temperamentally fussy and untidy, and everything he owned was in disorder. She put her hand upon a cocoa-tin. It contained white pellets which looked like rice. There was another tin, and this was half-full of cocoa. She gave a cry of satisfaction. And then, as she replaced the lid of this tin she saw another; straight before her eyes; and something made her stop as if she had been paralysed. Fascinated, she read: "POISON: This preparation of Sheep Dip contains Arsenic." There followed some particulars, of which she caught only the word "grains." Poison! Sally cautiously took the tin in her hand, reading again more carefully the words printed upon the label. Funny thing to have in the house, she thought.... Poison. She replaced the tin upon the cupboard shelf, and carried the cocoa to Gaga.

"That cocoa?" she demanded. "It's all mixed up with poison and stuff. Don't want to kill you."

Gaga, by this time in bed, looked at the cocoa, and proclaimed its reality.

"Yes ... that's ... co ... cocoa," he stammered.

There was a pause of some minutes while the cocoa was mixed; and they both drank it slowly, Sally conscious, as its warmth stole through her body, that she was less extremely unhappy than she had been. She felt a little better. She even kissed Gaga in wishing him goodnight, and received his eager kisses in return without flinching. At last she too went to her bed in the adjoining room, and undressed and lay down in the darkness. From where she lay Sally could hear Gaga moving, and could see the glimmer of the light in his room which would burn until the morning. And as she lay there all her tragic thoughts came flooding back with the intensity of a nightmare. The horrors, for a short time repelled, were stronger than ever. She was tensely awake. Every word exchanged between Toby and herself came ringing into her head. She was aghast at the stupidity, the cruel and brutal stupidity, of her lover. He her lover! Love! why he didn't know what love meant! He would take everything she had to give; and when he was asked to stand by her Toby would repudiate her claim upon him. She was filled with vicious hatred at his betrayal. That was what men were! That was what they did! Shirkers! They were all like that, except when they were ridiculous half-men like Gaga. What was she to do? What could she do? Her brain became very clear and active. It was working with painful alertness, so rapidly that she often did not reach the end of one channel before she was embarked upon another. Toby was hopeless. She must act by herself. And what could she do?

Supposing she could do nothing? Disgrace, failure.... She was frightened. Better anything than disclosure so ignominious. She thought of Gaga: very well, there was still time. He would be better soon, and once he was better she could easily persuade him that he was the father of her baby. That was the simplest plan, and one which had been so much taken for granted that she had not taken it sufficiently into account as the only safe course. Gaga could be deceived because he had no suspicion of all that went on in her mind, or of anything that had happened in her life. He would soon be better, and when once they were united he would be wholly in Sally's hands. Not yet, though. He must get well. A quick rush of relief came to her as a reassurance. She could have laughed at her own panic. Of course Gaga was the solution. He could be made to believe almost anything. But supposing ... supposing that he would always be ill? Then indeed she would be better dead. Dead? But how could she die? She might long for death; but death was not an oblivion that could be called up at will. Sally pondered upon the possibilities.

The word "POISON" returned to her memory. Quickly there followed the word "arsenic." Arsenic: what did she recall? Suddenly Sally remembered that evening long ago when she had found her mother reading an account of the Seddon trial. What had Seddon done? All the details came crowding to her attention. He had given poison in food ... in food. And Miss ... what was her name? Same as old Perce's— Barrow. Seddon had given Miss Barrow arsenic. It had made her sick. Sally shuddered. She did not want to be sick. She had had enough of sickness in these past few weeks. To her sickness was the abomination of disease.

A terrible shock ran through Sally's body. She lay panting, her heart seeming to throb from her temples to her feet. Miss Barrow had been constantly sick through taking arsenic, and they had only found it out.... Gaga.... Sally's face grew violently hot. She could not breathe. She sat feverishly up in bed, staring wildly. An idea had occurred to her so monstrous that she was stricken with a sense of guilt and self-horror such as she had never known.