"Didn't you get my letter?"
"When? Now? I've had no letter. What you going to Stoke Newington for? No, I want to know. You going to meet another chap? I believe you are, you little devil! By Christ! If you.... I will come!" Toby was now fiercely suspicious. She could tell from his ferocious grip, and the urgency of his tone. "If you're playing that game, I'll kill you. By Christ, I will!"
"I'm not. I'm not," cried Sally. "You're hurting me, Toby!"
"You swear it?" He relaxed his hold, which was strangling her. In the darkness he again strove to see her expression and judge for himself of her honesty.
"I'm not going to see anybody. I swear I'm not."
"Why did you ask if I'd had your letter? What you bin writing to me?"
"Oo, a lot of lies...." breathed Sally. "Silly talk and rubbish. That's all it was."
"What about?" He was still intense. Sally could hardly breathe, and her courage was fading. They were so much in the darkness that they could not be seen, and she was entirely dominated by Toby's physical strength. Within his grasp she was helpless, and not all her dartingly-imagined expedients would be enough to secure her escape. Hastily she improvised a story.
"Well, I'm not living with ma any longer. I gone out to live in," she lied.
"Stoke Newington?"