e silly!" he cried. "We'll do it ... er ... we'll ... somehow
we'll do it." Sally waited, her anger cooling, a hope rising once again
in her breast. Cruel knowledge of him surged into her thoughts. At last
the determination she desired came from Gaga. He said, in a grim tone:
"She needn't know. We won't tell her."

Sally's eyes closed for a moment. As if she had willed this, she had
attained her end. No longer was there to be any doubt. They had an
understanding. They were going to do something together which must be
kept secret between themselves. She did not make even a tactical display
of unwillingness. She too greatly desired the end to endanger (though it
should be to confirm) her aim by any further display of finesse. It was
enough. She was hot in her glimpse of the triumph she had secured. She
would be able to stay. The rest of their evening was now unimportant,
because they had need only to speak of details, and of matters
unconnected with the plan.

xiv

Upon the day following this dinner and momentous conversation, Sally was
working listlessly amid the hum of girls' chatter, which proceeded
unchecked while Miss Summers was out of the room, when she had a
singular knowledge of something in store. She was struck almost by fear.
Quickly she looked up, and across at Rose Anstey, and beyond Rose to the
door of Madam's room. Miss Summers stood in the doorway, smiling, and
beckoning to Sally. Smiling--so it could not be anything.... Madam
wanted Sally; but Madam would not tell Miss Summers.... Had she found
out about Gaga? Sally's heart was like lead. But Miss Summers was
smiling kindly and significantly, which she would not have done if she
had thought the interview promised to be unpleasant. Besides, Gaga had
said Miss Summers called Sally her best worker. It was nevertheless a
nervous girl who went into the room, heard the door close behind her,
and found herself alone with Madam.

The room was that tawny one in which Sally had first seen Madame Gala.
It was lighted by one large window and it was not really a large room,
although it contained Madam's enormous table and a bureau and a number
of shelves upon which reference books stood. It was very quiet and cool
in summer, and warm in winter; and Madam sat at her writing desk in a
stylish costume unconcealed by any overall. Seated, she did not look so
terrifyingly tall; but her faded eyes had still that piercing scrutiny
which had disturbed Sally at the first