Ten minutes afterwards Miss Summers had gone. Sally waited a little while, to give her time to reach the street and remember anything that might bring her back. Then, very quietly, she took off her own pinafore, and stole across the room and listened at Gaga's door. She could hear nothing. Sharply, she tapped, and listened again.
"Come in!" said a voice.
Sally opened the door, standing there in her grey dress, with her hair brilliant, and her whole face smiling. And Gaga, looking up from his work, saw her thus as a vision, a happy vision for tired eyes. He smiled in return and Sally advanced, without any shyness or assumed shyness, into the room.
"Wondered if you were here," she said cheerfully. "Everybody else has gone. Miss Summers and all. I'm working on something. Oo, hasn't it been a day! The girls all had the fidgets. I've been quite ill all day."
"Ill?" demanded Gaga. "Not ... not really ill? Oh, I'm.... I'm so sorry. Poor Sally!"
"Headache," mentioned Sally, rather lugubriously, so as to encourage his pity.
"Headache? Oh, poor little girl! So have I."
Sally gave a little laugh. It contained all sorts of provocative shades of meaning.
"Hn," she said. "Funny us both having headaches. You still got yours?"
Gaga nodded. She went farther towards him, hesitated, and then still nearer.