looked round the omnibus,
at some other girls, and an old man who wore two waistcoats, and the
conductor; and her face again puckered into a smile.

"Doesn't half think he's a devil," she thought, demurely.

Then other thoughts of Gaga arose, and Sally frowned a little. She had a
sudden feeling that she was on difficult ground. She was not afraid, not
nervous; but her imaginings darted swiftly here and there at the bidding
of a knowledge that she must not at this juncture make any false step.

xvii

All the way home Sally had the one subject, the one series of
speculations, hammering at her attention. She was again sensible; she
was shrewd and perceptive. Gaga was a funny old stick, she thought;
funny and weak and nice. She could play upon him with ease. A touch, and
he was thrilled; a kiss, and he was beside himself. And yet what did he
want--what did he _think_ he wanted? And what did Sally herself want?
She did not know. She felt at a loss, excited and almost wanton. Yet so
much depended upon all this that she dared not make a mistake. Gaga's
good-will was of enormous importance. In his hands lay some of her
future. If she could help him, earn rewards, understand the business,
she could master everything. And Madam--what if Madam died? Supposing
she suddenly died, and left Gaga in control of the business, what would
happen? Sally hoisted her shoulders in doubt. Gaga might sell the whole
thing. He might run it himself. He would keep Miss Summers....

"Oh, I wish I was older!" cried Sally, impatiently. "I could do it, but
they wouldn't let me. They'd think I couldn't. I could! Not all at once,
but in a little while. If he'd hold on. Supposing he ... wants me...."
Her thoughts flitted away. She had a quick picture of Gaga as a lover,
of herself managing everything by keeping him at her side with cajolery
and parsimoniously-yielded delights. But he might grow tired of her; and
then where would she be? Sally did not trust men now; she too clearly
saw that once they were no longer tantalised they were liable to become
sated and uneager. She was face to face with that speculation here. It
all depended upon Gaga, upon the strength of her hold upon him. Could
she so play that she reaped all the advantage she needed without giving
anything at all? She was desperately tempted. She so greatly craved the
power which only Gaga could give her. Well, what did he want? It was not
enough that she should recognise her power to ex