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Updated: June 26, 2025
And while Gaga lay down in the afternoon, as she found he was in the habit of doing, in order that his physical strength might last through the day, Sally found the empty drawing-room and with often-strained ears began the difficult task which she had set herself.
She could imagine him stammering a defence, and being crushed, and perhaps being kind to her for a little while and fussing about to find her a job elsewhere. And that would be the end of that. She neither sang nor whistled. Every now and then she again listened, until she was impatient with uncertainty. Her impatience made her laugh. Fancy being impatient for seven o'clock! And for Gaga!
As they sat, Gaga was so happy that he repented of his promise to go away, and wanted to remain at ease in such pleasant circumstances. He began to think of reasons why they should not go away at all. He spoke with regret of the new flat, of their preparations ... even of the business. But already Sally was upon her feet.
"You see, I'm it sounds conceited, and I expect I am; but it's true I'm clever. I'm not soppy. Other girls Rose Anstey.... They're soppy. They can't do anything. I can do all sorts of things because I'm clever I can sew, and ... you know, all sorts of things." Gaga glowed at her words. "I know," he eagerly agreed. "That's why you're so wonderful. Most girls can only do one thing.
She returned it boldly, quite unembarrassed; but across her mind flitted a knowledge which came there of its own accord. She had never realised this. She saw in this instant that he would be jealous, exacting, amorous. She did not love him, and the amorousness of the unloved is a bore. Sally knew she could always deal with Gaga; but she did not want a profusion of excited caresses from him.
She could manage Gaga; she could manage Toby; she could manage the business there was no end to her power. More than anything else, it was necessity to her to gratify her sense of power. If that necessity had been removed she would have known herself for a reckless fool; but the demand for power obliterated every inconvenient thought of risk.
She put her hands to his breast, forcing him a little away. "D'you think I'm an angel?" "Yes!" came defiantly from Gaga. "You're mad!" cried Sally, with contempt. "You don't know what you're talking about. And even if you are in love with me, as you say, what does it mean? You'd soon get tired of me. You'd begin to think I wasn't an angel. What's the good of it all?" Gaga looked astounded.
She savoured it, appreciating the fact that he shrank, knowing that when she wanted him to do anything she could always manage Gaga with the lightest touch. And that was why, in a moment, she allowed herself contact with his shoulder. Gaga's arm mechanically rose, and was about her waist, quite unpossessively. His face was moved with a conflict of emotions.
She could not read the menu, because she knew no French; but the waiter, with an uncanny insight, realised that he would do well to address her and to explain the dishes to Sally instead of to Gaga; and so, to the relief of all three, they were quickly served, and wine was brought, and Sally began to feel creeping upon her all the old pleasure and excitement of noise and wine and an intriguing situation.
Why, nothing could stop her! Married to him, she would be unassailable. It was not to be believed. "Because I love you. Sally, do say 'yes." He was beseeching. His grey face was flushed, his lips eagerly parted, his eyes radiant. Gaga seemed transfigured. And his embrace was strengthened each instant by his vehement desire for her. "You love me?"
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