now? She was looking so ill...."

Gaga became mournful. The mention of his mother always, it seemed to
Sally, made him miserable. Silly Gaga! He then did something which had
an imperceptible effect upon Sally's thought of him. It was a mistake,
because it illustrated his lack of initiative and his powerlessness to
strike out a fresh path. He made straight for the Rezzonico again. He
ought to have taken Sally to another restaurant; but he instinctively
took her to the place where they had dined happily before. In that he
betrayed to her merciless judgment the fact of his inexperience.
Silently, they entered the big dining-room. The band was not playing at
the moment, and, as they were early, the room was less full than it had
been upon the first occasion. The enormous mirrors reflected their
hesitating movements. Gaga made his way vaguely towards their former
table; but Sally laid a hand upon his arm. It was time for her to take
command. Into her expression there crept the faintest hardness, almost a
tough assurance, that was tinged with the contempt which was her deepest
feeling for Gaga.

"Couldn't we get a table against the wall ... down there?" she demanded,
pointing.

It was done. They were installed, and a young and rapid waiter was
attending to them. This time Sally helped to choose the dinner. She
could not read the menu, because she knew no French; but the waiter,
with an uncanny insight, realised that he would do well to address her
and to explain the dishes to Sally instead of to Gaga; and so, to the
relief of all three, they were quickly served, and wine was brought, and
Sally began to feel creeping upon her all the old pleasure and
excitement of noise and wine and an intriguing situation. Her hardness
vanished. She sat almost with complacency, breaking her roll with two
small hands, and looking at Gaga with that thin little grin which caused
her meagre face to be so impish and attractive. The brilliant lights
which made Sally more and more piquante had a ghastly effect upon Gaga.
His grey cheeks were cruelly betrayed.

"I'm afraid mother's ... mother's not what she ought.... I'm afraid
mother's ill," began Gaga, stammering. Then, impulsively: "I say.... I'm
so glad you came to-night. I.... I've been--you know, my head-- I've
been miserable, and.... I've been bad-tempered all day. But I'm better
now. Couldn't help ... feeling better, seeing you there...."

Sally grinned again. If her cheeks had been plum