would not ever be able to understand
her wish to be alone, or to be self-engrossed. Febrile himself, he would
be dumfounded at her reserve, which he would take for hostility.

The knowledge came to Sally so unexpectedly that she did not respond to
Gaga's unspoken appeals. The frown in her eyes deepened. All round her
were the gilded mirrors of the Rezzonico, and the general noise and
movement of a busy restaurant. Opposite was Gaga, smiling with a sort
of joy which made his long face appear to shine. She could tell that he
was almost beside himself with excitement. And she was cool. There was
no current of understanding between them. They had neither physical nor
spiritual _rapport_. Slowly Sally's gaze took in all that was revealed
in Gaga's face and his nervously extended hands. Slowly a little cruel
smile played round her small mouth. She had married him. She was sure of
him. But there was a price. He would be a nuisance, a futile nuisance to
her. He would demand kisses, he would pry, would watch her, would fuss.
He would be a lover with all the empty ardour of the neurotic man.
Sally's heart sank. She did not want a restrained lover, because she was
young and high-spirited; but this singular trembling possessiveness
would soon be intolerable. He would be a nuisance. Again and again the
threat pressed itself upon Sally's consciousness.

Men! That was what Sally thought. She had no deliberate mental process.
All her intuitions were summarised in the one word. Men! Toby.... Gaga!
Gravely, she looked round the restaurant. There were fat men and thin
men, dark and fair, ugly and good-looking and negligible. And as she
looked at them in turn, puzzled, Sally shrugged her shoulders. She came
back to Gaga. She gave him a false, alluring smile, secure in her power
to excite him still further; but her gravity was constant. She had
glimpsed for the first time a thing which she could not have known
before marriage. It was that one married for different reasons, but that
one had to endure the disadvantages accompanying any choice. She was not
afraid, but she was ruffled. She was ruffled by that exulting
possessiveness which shone from Gaga. Had she loved him, her joy might
have been comparable with his. If she had loved him and he had seemed
not to desire her, Sally's happiness would have been undermined. But in
her present coolness, the sense that Gaga was personally inescapable was
enough to depress her. He would be a nuisance.