to go about with. Boys always went in twos.
So did girls. The one gave the other courage. Yet Sally was done with
May. May was soppy. She did not, in thinking this, do anything but envy
May; but all the same she knew that Toby's solitariness matched her own.
It was an augury. She lay awake until he came home, listening to her
mother breathing; and then, in a few minutes, heard eleven o'clock
strike.
vi
The next time this happened, and they met so definitely, Toby looked
sharply at her. Sally did nothing, but paused an instant. He followed
her with his eyes. Then, he stepped to her side. It was the moment and
Sally stopped sharply, shrinking a little from him.
"Going out alone?" Toby said. "Mind if I come too?" He walked beside
her. "I mean ... live in the same house."
Oh, he had plenty of assurance.
"All right; you can come," Sally vouchsafed. She was not going to show
eagerness; but she was thrilling with excitement. She moistened her
lips, her nostrils pinched and her eyes suddenly shrewd. She felt her
heart beating terribly in her breast, and was half the calculating
victor and half a genuinely shrinking young girl engaged in her first
serious exploit.
For a few moments both Toby and Sally were silent. Everything depended
upon the establishment of some instant connection between them, for
otherwise the nerve of both might fail, and a fiasco result. Toby's step
hesitated, as though he was beset by an impulse to leave her. Sally shot
a quick glance. He was wavering, and must be held.
"Nice night, isn't it?" she remarked, in a ladylike way.
The inclination to fly was checked. Toby remained by her side. They
walked together about the streets for an hour, he smoking cigarette
after cheap cigarette, and every now and then saying something that was
nothing. He was not a good talker. He could not express himself, but
said "er" between words, and moved his hands. Partly it was nervousness.
Sally often grinned at knowledge of this and of his bad way of speaking,
which made him sometimes appear almost loutish. But behind every
roughness there lay a hidden strength that she was ready to worship. She
walked beside him with steps quicker than his own, but a good swing;
exulting in their power to walk in unison, a thin little figure beside
his stoutness, her large black straw hat hiding her every expression
except when she tilted up her head and in the light of a street lamp
showed a tiny white face. Toby slouch
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