o that of scratching, as though
the place had irritated. Then she continued with her undressing.

When once they were in bed and the light was out, Sally told her
everything. Janet made no comments. She listened with her eyes
glaring out into the darkness, sometimes moistening her lips as they
became dry. The unconscious note in Sally's voice thrilled her; it
was like that of a lark thanking God for the morning. She felt in
it the pulse of the great force of sex--nature rising like a trembling
god of power out of the drab realities of everyday existence.

It wakened a sleeping animal in her. She felt as though its stertorous
breaths were fanning across her cheeks and she lay there parched
under them.

"What's that?" exclaimed Sally under her breath when she had finished
her relation.

"What's what?"

"That noise."

They both listened, breaths held waiting between their lips, their
heads raised strainingly from their pillows.

On the other side of the wall was Mr. Arthur's room, and from their
beds they heard muffled sounds as of a person speaking. They waited
to hear the other voice in reply. There was none. He must be speaking
to himself. Sometimes the voice would stop. Then came one single
sound like a groan, only that it was more exclamatory. For a few
moments there was silence; then again a clattering noise. That was
recognizable--a boot being thrown on to the floor. It came again--the
second boot. Then another single sound of the voice, a sudden violent
creaking of springs as a heavy body was thrown on to the bed; then
silence.

"That's Mr. Arthur," said Janet. "He's drunk."

And whereas Janet found sympathy for him, Sally lost that which she
had.

CHAPTER XII

The dinner was fixed some few days later for seven o'clock in a little
restaurant in Soho.

"_Don't think because I chose this place_," concluded Traill's
letter, "_that I am considering the fact that we are not dressing,
and that, therefore, it ought not to be some ultra-fashionable place.
You shall come to those another time if you wish. This particular
evening I want to be quiet, and this is the quietest place I know.
I leave the theatre to your choosing. Anything will suit me, I have
seen them all._"

Janet watched her across the breakfast-table as she folded the letter
and crumpled it into her pocket. Their eyes met and they smiled.

"I shan't be in to dinner this evening, Mrs. Hewson," Sally said
presently.

Mrs. Hewson l