med--a
lover who was ardent, a lover who had to be repelled, so that the
delight of ultimate surrender should be fully savoured. Was he a lover?
Sally shivered. The attempt and the rebuff made them more intimate, as
though an understanding had been reached between them. They walked along
elbow to elbow, at first silent, and then talking freely, both in
good-humor and with continued interest. In the safe darkness Sally's
eyes glistened. The very faintest smile made her mouth enigmatic.
Already she carried herself with fresh assurance. She was conscious of
her power, and altogether resolved to maintain it by prudence.
viii
All this time Toby had never seen Sally in daylight. He had seen her in
a glimpse under the flickering hall gas, and again from time to time in
the shine of street lamps; but he had never once been with her in
daylight. She herself was conscious of this, at first accidental, but
now deliberate, mystification; and she dreaded the disclosure that was
bound to come. It was not, she knew, that she was ugly; but only that to
a man like Toby her small face and sandy hair might mark her down and
ruin everything. She feared to notice a change in him, a change from
their present and increasingly confidential relation to an indifference,
a contempt, which she might find unbearable. The feeling was acute. It
was not solely due to dependence upon Toby, but was a part of her
long-suffered self-disparagement and a fear, almost fatalistic, that she
could never keep a man's interest. The fear grew more intense as she
fell into the bitter-sweets of a lover's doubtings. The day must come,
and then what would happen? She longed to twine herself into his life
before he could see her clearly. Perhaps then he would not notice?
Perhaps even now he knew, and did not mind?
That was one mood. Another was a recognition of her own piquancy. In
this stronger mood, she concentrated upon her own prettiness, the
slimness of her body, her power to please him. But the confidence did
not last, because he had become a necessity to her. Having
half-determined to snare him, Sally was herself snared by the gins of
love. She was hard, but she was soft. She was cold, but she was warm.
And as each day she used the sewing machine or roughly stitched the raw
material for Miss Jubb's costumes, Sally always looked to the nights.
When it rained, and she had to stay indoors, she chafed irritably and
went early to bed. When she met Toby she wa
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