obbing; her eyes were again closed, and her lips tragically pressed
together. Her face might have been marble. And as he held her fast, Toby
forced back Sally's head and many times kissed her hotly and
possessively. "What's the row?" he demanded. She heard the savagery of
his tone, and felt his warm breath on her cheek; and some undertone of
his husky voice vibrated in her ear. "Ain't you well, Sal?" he
whispered. "I never meant I wanted to go home. I don't. You know that. I
only said the time. Only ... how long had we got? Sally, old girl...."

"All right, all right!" Sally did not know what she was saying. Her
brows were knitted in distraction. Then: "Oh, any old time...." And as
she spoke temptation suddenly swept her with a tingling heat, and her
mouth was dry and her body tense with the excitement of the overwhelming
moment. Her heart beat so fast that she was quite breathless. With an
impulse too strong for resistance she returned her lips to Toby's,
half-crying, and in vehement surrender. She could see no further, could
endure no more. At the withdrawal she cried gaspingly: "I needn't ...
needn't go home at all ... to-night. Nobody ... expects me. Toby!"

x

In the morning Sally awoke with a heavy heart. Foreboding was more
gloomy than she had ever known it. The hotel bedroom in which they had
slept was very small, and the walls towered above her. It was a dirty
room, and the bright sunlight that came through the slats of the blinds
revealed the thick London dust in the curtains and on the walls. Toby
was by her side, fast asleep. She had no sense of wrong-doing--it never
troubled Sally, who judged her own conduct by exceptional standards; but
she was again full of fear. Lightly she touched Toby's thick strong
hair, and kissed it, half raised from her pillow; and bending over him.
Her love was undiminished, but her fear of him was suddenly increased.
And as she withdrew her hand and sat upright she caught sight of the
wedding-ring which she had taken from her purse and slipped onto her
finger before they reached the hotel. They had come without luggage, and
it had been an impulse of caution which had led her to wear the ring.
Slowly she turned it round and round upon her finger, not recalling that
it was Gaga's ring, not considering her use of it an added dishonour to
Gaga, but looking at it abstractedly. The ring meant so much, and so
little. Her marriage had meant so much and so little. A faint smile
stole