Sally turned away to hide from any glance of her sleeping mother the gleeful smile which had made her face radiant. She had been kissed because she had encouraged Gaga to kiss her; but he was so timid that he would never have done it if he had not very greatly desired to kiss her. She wondered what he thought about her. He talked of their being "friends"; he was half silly about her; he had kissed her and had wanted to kiss her again. Having begun, he would want to go on kissing her. And then, what? He would be afraid to kiss her at their next meeting; but he would all the time be watching his opportunity to do so. Was Sally going to give him his opportunity? Was she going to give him the confidence necessary for the task of using his opportunity? She was still gay, still amused and self-confident; but there was a doubt in her eyes. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know all that was still hidden from her. All the same, during the whole of her questioning of Gaga's ultimate aspirations, she never once lost the consciousness that the next step lay with herself. Was she going to give him that necessary confidence?
"Oh, I think so," thought Sally, deliberately; and smiled almost to laughter as she lay with her face upon the pillow and was aware of the whole of her warm body, from the tip of her nose to her round heels and the eager fingers bunched close to her breast. "I think so...." she repeated, with more humorousness. She had a vision of Gaga with his chocolate eyes glowing into her own as the result of the wine and his proximity to herself. She saw his thin lips stretched, and the faint red under his grey cheeks, and his thin hair. She felt his lips clumsily kissing her ear, the nervous clutching of his arms. Sally was pleased. She knew that sleep was almost upon her, and heard Mrs. Minto's deep breathing a foot away from the back of her head. Yawningly, she snuggled more comfortably into her pillow, and as consciousness slipped away a distant murmur seemed to repeat: "Yes ... yes.... I ... think so." In a mood of expectant triumph she slept, sure for the moment of the course of future events.
xviii
All the next day Sally's nerves were on edge. She had slept heavily, and had awakened unrefreshed. She had made her way to Madame Gala's in a tame morning mood, once again self-distrustful, very much waiting upon events. The sight of Nosey checking the times of arrival, and still more the gloomy aspect of a half-empty workroom, chilled her. Miss Summers looked spiteful, Rose Anstey was sniffling with a cold, the others were listless and tired. It was a muggy morning, and all spirits were low. Sally's were lower than any others in the room. She began to work with only half her ordinary attentiveness, broke her cotton, snapped a needle, fidgetted. Her eyelids were hot, and she felt a headache begin to throb faintly in promise of greater effort later in the day. She was restless and wretched, looking at the door which probably hid Gaga. Even the memory of last night's kisses was stale and unsatisfactory. As she drew her breath in a half-sob, Sally longed suddenly for Toby. She longed for his strong arms, his possessive air, his muscular strength. And as she thought of Toby a tear came to her eye, and she felt that life was not worth living. A consciousness of childish need for support destroyed all her confidence at a blow. How she hated all these stupid girls! How she longed for something—she could not imagine what—which should take her out of their company. Complaint filled her mind. Why should she have to work, to go backwards and forwards between the workroom and that miserable home where her mother stewed incessantly and followed the course of her monotonous days? It was a mood of pure reaction, but it made Sally desperate. Her head began to ache more noticeably. She was almost crying.
That, perhaps, was the condition of them all. None of the girls spoke, and all looked black and miserable as they bent over their work, or slacked and glanced around them. Outside, the rain began to fall, and the sky was grey with cloud. The lights had to be switched on, and they cast a deceptive glow upon all work, and idiotic shadows of the moving fingers of the girls. Miss Summers glowered and rubbed the tip of her nose; and at each crack or rustle of a chair or a piece of material she glanced sharply up, as though she were fighting with an impulse to scream. Sally felt that if Miss Summers had screamed they would all have screamed. She herself was tempted to scream first, so as to see what would happen. She thought that all work would be instantly thrown down, and that everybody would answer her cry, and then begin noisily to sob. Even miserable as she was, the thought of this avalanche of feminine excitability made Sally snuffle with amusement. She pictured Gaga running out of his room, distraught, looking yellow and bilious, his eyes staring wildly out of his head, as do the eyes of prawns. And then? And then Rose Anstey would fall bellowing into his arms, and Sally would tear her away, and claim Gaga before them all....
How astounded he would be! But anything would be better than this wretched suppressed exasperation which was making the atmosphere of the workroom unbearable. Fortunately a girl finished the work she was doing, and took it to Miss Summers.
"Very bad!" snapped Miss Summers. "It's not even straight! You must do it again. Naughty girl, to waste that silk like this!"
The girl began weakly to cry. All the others stared viciously at her, gloating over her distress, hating her, and thankful to have some object at which to discharge their suppressed venom. They would have liked to beat her. Savagery shone in their malignant eyes. All became sadistic in their enjoyment of the weeping girl as she crept back to her place. Only Miss Summers grew rather red, and swallowed quickly, and was ashamed.
"Nancy!" she called. "What is it? Aren't you well?"
Nancy put her head upon her outstretched arms, and they could hear the long dreadful sobs that shook her body. Upon every face Sally read the same message; the curled lips, the pinched nostrils, all indicated the general strain.