And her task was the writing of a letter to Toby. She had planned to
write to him upon this day--the first free day of her married life; and
she was bent upon keeping to her plan. He must be told at once, and yet
as she held the pen above a sheet of plain paper she was stunned by the
extraordinary difficulty of the composition. Only then, for the first
time, did she grasp the definiteness of the step she had taken. She
would never see Toby again. Never? Never--never--never. Sally's eyes
filled with tears. A thick, painful sob forced its way through her.
Never.

She began to write. She put no address, but only, in her plain
handwriting, still that of a schoolgirl, the words "My dear." It was at
this point that Sally began to discard all the phrases which she had
earlier composed in her head. She considered that if she were never to
see Toby again it did not matter what he thought of her. The bald
announcement would do very well. It was best, and easiest, and safest.
And then she knew again that she was afraid of Toby, and of what he
might do. She was a true woman in being unable to face a conclusion.
She could not imagine that she would never see him again. It was
incredible. So incapable was she of realising the fact of a complete
break that she thought herself possessed by an instinct that they must
meet and continue as before. Sally was much more afraid that he would
kill her. It was the reason why she was putting no address at the head
of the letter. He must not find her with Gaga. She wrote at last.

"My dear. I have been a bad wicked girl and married another man.
Do not try to find me. I shall be all right. Find some other girl,
and be happy with her. I shall never be happy without you. My
husband is very kind and good. Don't forget me."

At the end of this letter she put no signature, but a single cross to
indicate a kiss. Then she addressed an envelope, stamped it, slipped
down the stairs and along to the post office. By the time Toby got the
letter she and Gaga would no longer be there; and he would not be able
to find her afterwards. London was so big. She was afraid of him, and
yet she longed to see him again. Five minutes later she was back in the
drawing-room, seated at the piano, and singing softly in her clear voice
the song that had first so greatly charmed Gaga.

"'Your heart mine, and mine in your keeping,
List while I sing to you love's tender song.'"

As she sang, Sally