"You made me feel queer," Sally went on. "Thought you were in a faint or something. Are you ill? Oh, say something, say something!"
All Sally's little thin body grew rigid as she spoke, for Gaga looked at her with an air of distraction. He seemed not to recognise her. His eyes were yellow and suffused, his mouth was open, his appearance that of one who was hardly sane.
"I'm all right," came at last with an effort from his dry lips. "All right, Sally. Only tired ... ever so tired." There followed a stiff attempt to smile, and then his face was hidden once again by the long hands. "My head's throbbing. It's like pincers in my head."
"Have you got any medicine?" she asked, quite moved by his weakness. "Go out and get some. Quick! Get a chemist to...." The head was slowly shaken. "You ought to. You can't do anything if you're ill. Can't do any work, or help Madam, or anything."
"Better presently," groaned Gaga. "That's ... that's all right, Sally. Good little girl to be so kind. I've been up all night. She's very bad, Sally; very bad. I've been up all night. Never mind; I'll be better presently." He relapsed into his former comatose state, nerveless and lethargic.
"You ought to get some sleep now. Go home to bed," urged Sally. "It's no good trying to work if you're sick. Go home now." She did not know how motherly, how caressing and wise, her voice had become. She was absorbed in his state of exhaustion and passivity. "It's not right," she went on. "You can't do any good. Get the doctor to give you something to make you sleep."
Gaga groaned again, still lost in his own sensations.
"No good," he murmured. "I can't sleep. That's what's the matter. Nothing does any good. I can't sleep—can't forget. Only sit here like this, and feel stupid. Never mind, Sally. Good little girl." He spoke thickly, like a man who has been drinking; but he was stupidly unshakable. She could do nothing with him. Having withdrawn her arm she could not again lay it upon his shoulders; but stood silent, feeling helpless and on tiptoe, with a sense of strain. She was not miserable nor anxious about him; she could almost hear her own voice, so nearly had detachment come upon her. And with something like cramp in her limbs, and paralysis of her ingenuity, she remained by his side, one hand resting for support upon Gaga's desk. Presently he withdrew one of his own hands, and patted hers; and as if that released her Sally went very quietly back to the workroom. There she saw two or three of the girls busy reading a paper, and in a little while Miss Summers came back and work was resumed. By the time Sally could again go into Madam's room Gaga had disappeared, and they did not see him all the following day.
xvi
Two days later he returned, and dully went on with his work as though it had no interest for him. Miss Summers had several times to suffer the ordeal of debilitating interviews; and towards the end of the afternoon was exasperated to tears. Sally could tell this from the sniffs and nose-rubbings that became more and more frequent. Miss Summers's eye-rims were quite pink, and her funny eyes were moist. She looked more than ever like a disconsolate tabby, and her hands were restless and clumsy. She had to ask Sally to thread her needle, and even to finish work that she was doing badly because of her agitation.