gain, and the tea ran warmly into her throat.
"No, I'm not wicked," Sally argued. "I'm not. 'Tisn't wicked to love any
one like I do Toby. It's wonderful. Fancy me in love! And Toby ... well,
liking me. Oo, he is strong and big. Wonder if he's brave? I should
think so. You couldn't be as strong as him and not be brave. Oh, I love
him." She remembered their caresses, unembarrassed and exulting. She
knew what it was to be loved. She knew ... she knew everything.
Everything that made people love each other and want to be always
together. Her mind persistently went on kneading into a general memory
the detached memories of the evening, and she was excited and full of
longing for Toby. Slowly she drank her tea, without thinking of it at
all, but accepting its comfort. Her shoulders began to feel cold, and
she shivered as she finished the cup.

Sally slid out of bed to replace the cup and to put out the lamp. As her
hand was outstretched she thought she heard a faint noise, but a
moment's startled listening reassured her. It had been nothing. She
lowered the wick, and blew out the remaining small blue rim of light.
Another instant, and she would have been back in bed, snuggled down in
the warmth. But at that instant she heard a further sound, this time the
turning of the door handle. She froze with sudden dread. In the darkness
she could see nothing.

"Who's there?" she whispered.

The door must slightly have opened. She could now see it open in the
gloom.

"Sally."

It was Toby. Joy took the place of fear. He was inside the door, and
she was in his arms, and the door was closed again behind them.

"My dear," Sally was saying, in a thick little caressing voice. "My
dear."

"Had to come," mumbled Toby, hoarsely. "Thought of you all alone. I
wanted you. See, I had to come."

"Of course you did," murmured Sally, her spirit leaping up and up in
tempestuous excitement. "Toby, you do love me? You _do_ truly love me?"

She had no sense then of anything but her love for him and his love for
her. She was carried right past caution and thought. She was in his
arms, and she was happy. And Toby, a dim figure of burly strength, was
kissing her until she was blinded and choking with excitement beyond all
she had ever felt. Everything conspired to affect her--all suppressions,
all knowledges, all curiosities and vanities. Nothing but caution could
have restrained her, and caution was forgotten. She was vehemently moved
and beyon