"My girl, my girl!" muttered Toby, in a thick voice, warm against her ear.
"Toby, listen.... Toby, I'm going to have a baby—it's your baby. What shall I do? Toby!" Sally clung to him. "I'm so frightened, Toby."
"Baby? Christ!" As suddenly, he repulsed her. "You say it's me. It's a lie! How d'you know? You little liar, you. What's your game?"
"Of course it's yours," fiercely cried Sally. "I told you."
"D'you think I believe that!" He was brutally incredulous. He held her away. "Why, you dirty little liar, you'd swear anything."
A ghastly anger took command of Sally.
"I told you," she steadily repeated. But she made no attempt to go back to him. They stood quite apart in the difficult gloom.
"I know you did. You told me you loved me. You married him."
"I told you," she obstinately went on. "I told you. I don't know what to do. He'll find out. He's bound to find out."
"He'll think it's his," said Toby. "By God, I believe it is."