"I'll never change. I love you."
"I wonder." Sally shook her head. "I'll tell you to-morrow." She was still dubious, suspicious.
"Let me get a license."
Sally's heart jumped again. He had once more surprised her, and she had supposed herself altogether beyond surprise. A license! Her quick glance could fathom no deceit, no inconceivable sportiveness in Gaga.
"Oh! You are in a hurry!" she exclaimed, delayingly. "Frightened you will change."
"I'm frightened of losing you."
Sally laughed a little, held up her face, and kissed him. Still she was puzzled.
"To-morrow. But you'll be sorry by then. I won't promise."
She found it not unpleasant to be loved in this fervid, nervous fashion. It amused her. But she was curiously unmoved, and when he had put her into her omnibus Sally breathed almost with relief. Strange to feel that relief after parting from the man you might be going to marry! Sally jerked her head. She remembered suddenly that Miss Summers had said earlier in the day. "You'll think twice before you marry for just love, and nothing else," Miss Summers had said. "You're right, my dear," thought Sally. And then there came galloping into her memory a recollection that made Sally blanch. "It's not the first man who makes the best husband," Miss Summers had said. Not the first man! The reason for Sally's fear was explained. She had known all along why she was afraid and had pressed back the knowledge from her attention, so that it should not interfere with her actions. The first man was Toby; and it was of Toby that she was afraid—of Toby and his love for her; and, more than all, of her strangely smouldering love for Toby.