s full of unwonted high
spirits. For a long time she did not know what had happened to her. Then
at last the truth flashed out one morning as she lay in bed, and with a
little laughing sound Sally knew that she was in love.

She was in love. And Toby, how did he feel? A new stage had been
reached, when her caution was directed to an altogether different end.
She did not now seek so coolly to play with his inclinations. She had
great need for care lest she should betray her own secret. The
occasional contacts with him had become an eager need, and must be
checked so as to make them appear as accidental as they were deliberate.
Sally was not withholding from coquetry, but from dread lest she should
give herself away and show herself over-willing. She noticed everything
he did, without watchful scrutiny, and with the merest quickness of her
caressing glance. She loved everything in him, his speech and his
movements, his strength, his stubbornness, his rough carriage and
silence. She loved him. She feared him. She did not dare to risk losing
him. Above all, she longed to be in Toby's arms, to be desired by him.

Once, when she was examining her face in the mirror, and trying to
imagine just how pretty Toby might be made to think her, Sally lost her
nerve. She was tearful all that day, tearful and speechless, so that a
rebuke from Miss Jubb brought about a real fit of crying. Miss Jubb,
astounded at such a collapse, instantly abandoned blame and showed true
kindness of heart, while May Pearcey looked on with round saucer eyes
above her round apple cheeks. And Sally went home early, ashamed of
herself, once more irritable to viciousness, and spent the time before
her mother's return lying upon the bed and trying to sleep. There was no
walk that night. Toby went out as usual, and even ventured a whistle
when she did not come; but Sally remained indoors. She did not, indeed,
hear the whistle, as she was at the back of the house; but she knew he
was waiting. She dared not go. In half an hour she heard Toby return,
and go tramping indignantly up to his room directly above. The sound
made her cry more than ever, but very quietly, in case her mother should
hear and awaken.

The next night was even more wretched, for Toby went out and was nowhere
to be seen when Sally followed him. She walked fruitlessly in the
directions they had taken upon previous evenings, and came back
disconsolate and exhausted. Pale and ill, Sally could not