d over his eyes, and his mouth always a little open.
It was a strange return, and Sally had ado to preserve any lightness of
step and tone as she jumped down from the cab and went into the hotel.
As before, she noticed the silence and emptiness of the small bar, and
the room beyond; and as she tapped loudly Mrs. Tennant came from another
room. This time it was Sally who took charge of everything. Gaga drooped
in the background, a feeble figure. But he gathered strength to smile at
Mrs. Tennant and to greet her.

"I'm not well, Mrs. Tennant," he said. "I've come to get ... get ... get
well. My wife's ill, too. You ... you must be very kind to us."

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Tennant, in a fat voice of concern. Her swollen
lips were parted in dismay. "But you _both_ look so bad! Of course: you
can have the same room you had before. Come up!"

She led the way. Sally again caught a glimpse of the drawing-room carpet
in its brilliant mixture of reds and blues and yellows, and was
immediately afterwards drawn into the old dark bedroom opening upon the
glass-covered balcony. She stood in dismay, suddenly regretful that they
had come to be stifled there.

"Can we have some lunch?" she asked. "My husband's...."

"Of course." Mrs. Tennant's geniality was benignant. But in her eyes
there remained that unappeasable caution which Sally had previously
noticed. "At once."

Sally slipped out of the room with her. They stood in the narrow drab
passage--two black-clothed figures notably contrasted in age and
development. Mrs. Tennant was so stout, and Sally so slim, that the
difference between them was emphasised by the similarity of clothing.

"My husband's mother's dead. He was awfully fond of her. He's been ill
ever since, and the doctor said he'd better come away."

"You're ill yourself, you know, Mrs. Merrick," exclaimed Mrs. Tennant.

"I've been nursing him a month--night and day. He's not strong. We'd
barely got back when she died. What with his illness, and the
business--it's been terrible!"

Sally was watching Mrs. Tennant--she did not know why. She felt
defensive. All was the result of her own position and the dreadful
knowledge which she had of her last night's temptation. She looked like
a young girl, but so pale and hollow-eyed that she would have aroused
pity in any woman of experience.

"But it's _you_. I know Mr. Merrick. I've often seen him queer. But
you're so changed. When you were here before...."

"I know. I'