xix

What had she been doing to forget Toby? Had she forgotten him at all? Somehow Toby had a little faded from her mind in these days, because he was on a voyage longer than usual, and she had not heard from him. Toby, her lover! Only when she had been a little frightened or distressed had she longed for his protective arms. Otherwise he had slipped into a sure place in her self-knowledge. He was the man she loved, strong and rough, the first to capture her heart, and until now the only man to hold her imagination. At the thought of deserting him Sally shrank. She belonged to Toby. Toby belonged to her. She had been going to marry him. If she had not loved Toby she would ruthlessly have shouldered him aside; but she could not do that, because he was her lover. And she was afraid. If once she betrayed him, Toby might kill her. She became terrified at the idea. Men killed their girls for jealousy's sake. She had often read in the papers of what were called "love tragedies."

Sally did not want to die. She wanted to rise to power, to riches. And Gaga offered her the way to attain her ambition. Married to him she could have all, or almost all, she wanted. If she refused him she might lose everything. She might lose her place with Madame Gala, she might.... How harassed she was! It was such a temptation! Gaga, with money, and everything that he could offer; and Toby, with love that she craved, and years of waiting, and a poky house, and his opposition to all she might want to do upon her own account. She had a vision of his lowering face, his savage mouth. She remembered all her joys in his arms. A shudder shook Sally at thought of his vengefulness, his fierce strength. And then, when she was married to Gaga, she would be mistress of so much that she desired. It was a desperate problem. The more she thought of it, the more tormented Sally became.

She was still in active distress when she reached home; and her headache of the morning had returned. Bright colour showed in her pale cheeks, and her eyes were brilliant with excitement. She was at high tension. The first sight of their room, and her mother's squalid figure, produced a violent effect upon Sally's thoughts. Anything to escape from this! Anything! But what of Toby? His strong hands could crush the life out of her. His jealousy would be so unmeasured.... He would kill Gaga. He would kill her. Sally was carried to an extreme pitch of fear. Life was so precious to her. And she loved Toby.

Did she still love him? Did he still love her? They were both older; separation had made each of them less dependent upon the other than they had been at first, and even although her love was jubilant when Toby returned on leave she was no longer the rapturous girl of even a year before. Long and long Sally remained torn between her two desires. She did not sleep at all, but lay turning from side to side and longing for oblivion or the daylight. She had never been so confronted with great temptation and great fear. Her head ached more and more. She could not cry, or sleep, or forget. She lay with open eyes, watching the window for the dawn. And when the morning broke she was still undetermined. The choice was too difficult.

Breakfast was uneatable; her journey to work was a dream. She shrank from going into the workroom, from seeing Gaga. All her confidence had disappeared. She was a bewildered little girl—not eighteen, but a child still without sense of direction. At one minute Toby seemed the only choice to make, but principally because she was afraid of what he might do if she married Gaga; and when she forgot her fear she no longer hesitated between love and ambition. She argued that she no longer loved Toby. She never once considered her feeling for Gaga. She hardly thought of him, or of what marriage to him might mean. Her eye was all to the consequences. It was so throughout, whether she thought of Toby or his new rival. All her thoughts were anticipations.

As she sat at work she began to lose fear of Toby. She felt she could always manage him, explain to him. She pretended that they would be friends; though the thought of Toby married to another girl gave her a sharp horror. If she married, it was different. She did not imagine what Toby might feel—only what he might do. She was thus the complete egoist. Not Toby's happiness or unhappiness was implicated; but only her own dominant desire. If she had still been unsatisfied in her love for Toby, she might have valued him more; but she knew all that he could teach her of love, and already her strong eagerness for him was becoming old and accustomed. The one restraint she had was fear of what he might do; and that fear was beginning to decline in face of stronger impulses towards the opportunity which marriage with Gaga would produce. And just in this crucial stage of her reflections came a most striking fresh influence. It was brought by Miss Summers, who returned from the telephone with a solemn expression upon her face.

"Sally," she said. "Come here." When Sally approached her, Miss Summers pretended to give some instructions; but in reality, under her breath, she murmured: "Sally, don't tell the other girls; but Madam's worse this morning. Her temperature's 103." Her warning frown emphasised the meaning of the words. It made Sally's heart begin to beat fast. Madam ... Madam....

With her head low, Sally bent over her work. But that frown had brought decision to her mind. She would marry Gaga. It was so important that she should not miss this chance that she would marry him at once. She must do so. It was essential. What if he had grown frightened?

That was her new spur of fear. Toby was forgotten. She was on fire for the marriage. It had now become the only conclusion to her doubts. She must take the earliest opportunity of seeing Gaga, of conveying her acceptance, of making sure of him. Her fingers trembled, so important did time now seem to Sally. Her one anxiety was lest she should have to kindle his eagerness anew. Troubled but resolute, she tried in vain to work. Every sound made her start. All her attention was distracted from the sewing and concentrated upon the possibility of an interview with Gaga. Yet a shyness made her afraid to leave her place and go into Madam's room. The other girls would notice. What if they did? They would soon know that they could not treat her with anything but humility. She would have untold power over them. Sally almost recoiled from the knowledge of what power she would wield in the business once she was Gaga's wife. It seemed to her incredible. Her mind strayed to Miss Summers, Miss Rapson, the jealous Rose.... How would they like it? What would they do? Sally imagined the news reaching them, imagined their fear of her, their jealousy, their cutting remarks about herself. And she laughed, knowing that she would be out of reach of any of the harm that they might wish her.

While she was thus contemplating a development, the door of Gaga's room opened, and he came quickly into the workroom. Sally's heart seemed to stop beating. She felt sick with dread. He wore a flower in his buttonhole. His first glance was for Sally, as her own lightning scrutiny showed. He was white, but he smiled. His eagerness of inquiry was manifest. Sally could not help smiling in return, although she was trembling, and knew that he too must be trembling. She gave the faintest possible nod, and saw the colour start to his cheek. Gaga was checked for an instant in his progress. His smile broadened, his head was thrown back. At that moment he looked almost like a determined man, so vividly did Sally's nod cause a new ichor of confidence to run in his veins.