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All right, slam the door after you.... Don't stay too late." 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.
He sometimes could not look at her at all, but fixed his attention upon his plate while she was speaking, or no higher than her neck when he was himself as he rarely did making an attempt to entertain. And all Gaga's hesitations and shynesses made Sally amused and sure of herself, and she began to take pleasure in dominating him.
Gaga behaved meltingly because she had felt the young man's knee gently placed against her own. He was blushing hotly and lisping as elegantly as ever. She weighed him at a glance. Not a very heavy little gentleman, to be sure, but then she wasn't hard to please. La Faloise obtained her address. "Just look there," murmured Vandeuvres to Clarisse. "I think Gaga's doing you out of your Hector."
The two men were sharply in conflict, and Gaga's arm was raised. She could see it even in the shadow the raised arm, and the impact of the two bodies. Gaga was in his sleeping-suit, spectral in his gauntness and his pallor. Maddened, Toby swept his enemy aside with one violent blow that would have killed the strongest man.
"Let me get a wet handkerchief." "No, no. Don't move. I.... I don't want you to move." Unconsciously, Sally gave a little sigh. It was all so easy, so much a question of his being content with whatever she gave, that the adventure was fading. It was ceasing to amuse her. "That's enough," she said. "Now I'm going home." She did not move, and Gaga's clasp tightened. "No," he murmured entreatingly.
She was surprised at Gaga's simplicity in imagining that any girl valued or could possibly value such ceaseless demonstrative action, such ugly hard little parrot-like caresses. "Only a soppy kid would," she thought. "She'd like it, I suppose. Think quantity meant love. It doesn't. Like a beak. Silly fool!" And aloud she said quite firmly: "There, that's enough.
Simonne listened with the greatest interest to this fresh piece of information. As to Clarisse, she had been raging for a week past. Just fancy, that beast La Faloise, whom she had succeeded in chucking into Gaga's venerable embrace, was coming into the fortune of a very rich uncle! It was just her luck; she had always been destined to make things cozy for other people.
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