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Updated: May 10, 2025
He could save, and she could get on; and then they would both be happy, with a house somewhere, and a maid, and everything spick and span. No babies. Sally had taken that to heart, and she appreciated the value of old Perce's advice. A girl who wanted to get on did not need babies to drag her down. She wanted freedom.
What had Seddon done? All the details came crowding to her attention. He had given poison in food ... in food. And Miss ... what was her name? Same as old Perce's Barrow. Seddon had given Miss Barrow arsenic. It had made her sick. Sally shuddered. She did not want to be sick. She had had enough of sickness in these past few weeks. To her sickness was the abomination of disease.
He then smoked his pipe, went into his front room, and played, "There you are, there you are, there you ain't ain't ain't." Sally did not remember ever having heard him sing anything else. He was singing it: now with customary gusto. Sally thought he must be a very rich man. Old Perce's wife, who let her practise on their piano, hinted as much.
Another was no less pleased with the Nez Perce lad, and nothing would do but he must exchange knives with him; drawing a new knife out of the Nez Perce's scabbard, and putting an old one in its place. Another stepped up and replaced this old knife with one still older, and a third helped himself to knife, scabbard and all.
She did not examine her feelings: she only knew that she was afraid and confident, alternately timid and ashamed, and then again breathing deep with satisfaction. She had begun. She was set out upon her adventure. At a blow she had to put everything to the test. How she longed for the next day! How she longed for her interview with Mrs. Perce's friend, and for her next encounter with Toby! xii
Her eyes were full and clear; her lips were well-moulded; her teeth, rather protruding, were unimpaired. Sally was filled with renewed envy of her personal advantages. Then her eyes went back to Mrs. Perce's hair. It was too obviously doctored. She didn't want anything like that. She wanted something more delicate.... The truth flashed upon her. Mrs. Perce was a trifle on the coarse side.
All sorts of funny things came into her head things she had seen and thought since their last meeting; and when she repeated them the Barrows laughed in great roars that filled her with conceited exultation. It was so long since she had laughed. It was so long since she had fed properly. This was like a dream, a riotous dream of noise and colour. She looked from old Perce's red face to Mrs.
One day, when she had gone to practise upon Mrs. Perce's piano, as she had not done all the time they had been away from the flat, Sally attracted Mrs. Perce's attention by singing unusually well. Her friend listened; and then looked into the room. "What's that you're singing?" she demanded. "Suits you.
She's a very old friend of mine.... I'll give you a letter to-night. Just say you come from Polly Barrow. She'll see you. Course, I can't be sure...." "No, no!" Sally's concurrence was eager. Her heart was like a flame. "You are kind to me, Mrs. Perce." "If I can help you, Sally...." Mrs. Perce's voice took on a tone of kindness almost solemn. "Well, that's all right.
Perce's words. What if she could do something with her voice? Did she sing well? She allowed herself to glimpse another glorious future. In the middle of the walk Sally stopped dead. "Oh, doesn't it...." she said aloud. "Well, we'll just see. We'll just see about it. That's all."
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