as going to sea. It would be a complete
change. It would do him good. He had been fiddling about too long at the
Works, in his overalls and in the grime and oil and general dodginess of
the place. The ship would take him about, and show him the way people
did things. It would open his eyes and his brains. Electrically,
something self-protective within her added the further message: it would
keep him out of the way for a time. Sally breathed deeply. An unreadable
smile was upon her lips, and no smile at all was in her eyes. Afar off
she scented change; but what manner of change she did not as yet
recognise. It was her instinct at work, her instinct for turning life to
her own advantage. It was an infallible instinct, like that of birds for
a coming storm.

v

It was some weeks before Sally again saw Gaga, and this time he came
into the premises of Madame Gala one Saturday morning. Sally had taken
something in to Madam, and was waiting her judgment, when one door
opened and Gaga came in. He was dressed, as usual, in a morning coat and
top hat, and his trousers were creased to an inconceivable point of
accuracy. Besides which, his tailors had been able to do what most
tailors cannot achieve; the creases arrived at the precise centre of
Gaga's fawn spats. Sally was not such an expert in male clothing to
recognise from this that Gaga's tailors were supermen; but she could
tell that he looked like a gentleman of leisure. She was the more
astonished, therefore, to see him carrying a parcel of some size under
his arm. His mother was evidently quite as astonished.

"What on earth's that, Bertie?" she demanded. Gaga looked at her in a
timid way.

"Oh--er--it's ... it's a new fertiliser," he said. "I.... I'm going to
take it on to the office after lunch. Goodmayes is coming back then.
Perrip says it's wonderful stuff, and I want Goodmayes to go into it.
We're going into all that matter--good morning, Miss Minto--this
afternoon. I.... I think we may be able to get through quite a lot. You
see, as it's Saturday, we shan't be interrupted...."

"That will do, Sally," said Madam, gravely and slowly nodding her head
in dismissal.

Sally went with regret. She had been interested in the conversation. She
had taken it for granted that Gaga did nothing for a living. Now he
talked of going to an office, and of two men whose opinions he evidently
valued, and of fertiliser; and although his words and his manner were
still those of a