were sobered immediately. But her
face did not betray this. Her face continued the demure face of a young
girl, not from any artfulness, but because she was in fact a demure
young girl, and her hidden mental calculations did not yet show in her
habitual expression.

"You'll be friends with me?" Gaga said, as though he asked a great
favour.

"If you'll let me," answered Sally, as though she conferred one.

The movement of hands was almost simultaneous, but it began with Sally.
Gaga clasped her left one in his right. Only for a minute. Then Sally
could not resist a giggle, and the compact was unsignalised. They talked
further, Sally once again in a state of delight, and Gaga inclined to be
repetitious. And then, as it was nine o'clock, Sally said she must go.
He saw her to her omnibus, and they parted as friends. From her seat
inside, as the bus moved off, Sally waved to him; and afterwards settled
down to the journey, full of memories and reflections of a curious and
enchanting character. Not of Gaga were these reflections, save with an
occasionally frowning brow of doubt; but of the remarkable vista which
had been opened by his demand for friendship and help. An excited
recollection of the lights and the mirrors and the overwhelming noise of
the restaurant intoxicated her afresh. Her whole face was shining with
excitement. She smiled to herself, occupied with such a mixture of
sensations and imaginings that at one moment she wondered whether she
was Sally Minto at all, and whether some magician had not changed that
Sally for a new creature born to spend her days in gaudy restaurants and
among all the noise and luxury of such a life as she had led this
evening for an hour and a half.

One moment at home was enough to convince Sally that no magician had
been at work. It was the same squalid house, and the same squalid room
that she reached after the splendour of her dinner. And it was the same
fretful mother who complained of her lateness and chided her for the
dangers she ran in being about the streets so late. Sally made no
answer. She looked in the mirror at the dilated pupils of her glowing
eyes, and at her flushed cheeks and laughing lips; and her heart first
sank and then violently rebelled against the contrast of this hideous
place with the light and colour she had left. She was a rebel. The
contrast was too great. How could she live in a room like this? How
could anybody live? It was not life at all, but a mer