at a man! Yes
... yes ... yes; but the baby! She was again desperately shaken.

"Why not to-morrow?" she cried, almost spitefully. "Why hang about?"

Gaga wavered. He began to kiss her. His hands, holding hers, were
clammy. She had a glimpse of the black space under his eyes, and the
swollen yellowness of the whites of his eyes, and his grey cheeks, so
lined and creased, and the dreadful salmon colour of his dry lips. In
his arms though she was, Sally shuddered violently, aversion recurring
with such strength that she could not control her repugnance. This was
her husband--her _husband_. Her eyes were strained away from him.

"You're cold," Gaga murmured. "Poor little girl.... You're ... you're
cold."

"Yes, I'm cold," agreed Sally, with a violent effort for grim
self-repression. "That's what's the matter with me. I stayed out too
long. I oughtn't to have gone out this evening." She again laughed
slightly, her laugh so sneering that even Gaga looked up as though he
had been startled.

"We'll go to bed early," he said. "It's cold to-night. Let's have
something hot, and go to bed. We can't have ... have you falling ill.
It's nursing me that's made you ... queer."

"Yes, it's all my nursing." Sally spoke in a dry voice, and when he
released her she went over to the fire without heeding Gaga, and looked
down at its brightness. Still her ears were alert to catch some violence
below; and as there was none her heart sank once more. Toby was gone.
She had dismissed him and he had gone. She was more forlornly alone than
ever. If Gaga had not been with her she must have sought relief in some
physical effort, some vehement thumping of the mantelpiece and a burst
into wild crying. The repression which Sally was forced to exercise
tortured her. The agony she suffered was almost unbearable. Her mouth
was stretched in a horrible grimace, so poignant was her feeling.

"I.... I'd like something hot," Gaga proceeded, in innocence. "Some ...
some cocoa ... or...."

"I'll get you some." It was with passionate exasperation that Sally
spoke; but she was thankful to know that she might leave him for a few
minutes. The room seemed to stifle her. She plunged to the door, walking
past Gaga with her head averted, so that he might not see her face. The
stairs were cold, and she was upon the ground floor in an instant. A
servant, called from below, came slowly to receive instructions; but
there was no cocoa in the house. Nothing? No coffee