entered
the workroom without confusion. It was the same as it had always
been--the long benches, and the girls, and Miss Summers sitting apart,
as plump and feline as ever. There was, of course, curiosity about
Sally. Few of the girls supposed that she had been away with a girl
friend, which had been the story; and all looked at her with a knowing
suspicion. Only Miss Summers was completely trusting. Sally had slipped
off her wedding-ring, and it lay in her purse. She took in the whole
scene as she entered, and measured the assumptions of the girls with
cool indifference. But she would have done that in any case; for Sally
had nothing to learn about workgirls and their thoughts and
interpretations, and she had also none of the false self-consciousness
which makes wrong-doers imagine that their actions have been
providentially revealed to all observers. Had she and Gaga arrived
together the case would have been different; but nothing had occurred to
make the girls suppose that there was any relation between them, and
Sally was perfectly safe from that most dangerous of all recognitions.
She was still, to the girls, Sally Minto; and to some of them still the
white-faced cocket of Rose Anstey's jealous outburst. Sally looked
boldly at Rose as she sat industriously working. Then, with greater
stealth, at Miss Summers. That plump face had a solemnly preoccupied
expression that gave Sally a faint start of doubt. Immediately, however,
she knew that Miss Summers must be worried, not upon Sally's account,
but on account of some message respecting Madam which had been received
earlier in the morning. This made her seize an excuse to approach Miss
Summers.

"How's Madam?" she whispered, surreptitiously.

Miss Summers shook her head with foreboding.

"Still the same. No better; no worse. Sally, I'm _afraid_."

Sally looked down at Miss Summers. How strangely their relation had been
altered by this weekend's doings! Wherever Sally glanced she knew that
what she saw was now potentially her own. By the simple act of marrying
Gaga she had become, as it were, mistress of the place. And she knew it.
She knew it plainly and without swollen conceitedness. Not yet was her
power unquestionable; but it was none the less genuine. Even Miss
Summers....

"I hope she gets better," said Sally.

Miss Summers shot a quick glance upwards. She started, and a faint
redness came into her plump cheeks. The tip of her nose was irritated,
and she r