A stirring of Toby's body made her glance quickly down. His eyes were open, and he was staring solemnly at her. His hair was all roughened, and his dark face was puffed with sleep. He looked like her big baby, irresistibly lovable. The smile deepened; but she did not speak. She made no movement at all; and Toby, stretching out a lazy arm, put it round her waist. "Ugh!" he said, grunting with satisfaction. With calm pleasure she enjoyed the knowledge of his great muscular strength; but she did not respond to him at all. Toby jerked towards her, so that his head rested against her side, and Sally mechanically crooked her arm lightly over his further cheek. Toby blinked a little, and yawned, and looked at the sunshine. "Wha's time?" he gaped. "Oh-o-oo." "Dunno. Oo, bless me!" Sally roused herself. "I mustn't be late." She reached out for Toby's watch, on the table at his side of the bed, and held it up to the light. The time was half-past-seven. She looked at the old watch, a cheap one with a loud tick. "I'll give you a _watch_, one day," she said, condescendingly. "A _watch_." "Here!" Toby's voice changed. He caught her wrist sharply--so sharply that Sally almost dropped the watch on the quilt. "What's that?" His tone was so strange that she was surprised, and tried to follow his glance. It rested upon her hand--upon the wedding ring. Sally's blood froze. "Oh, that?" she said, with an attempt to be easy. "Can't come into a place like this.... I mean, without a ring of some sort." "Oh?" asked Toby, sternly. "You know all about it, don't you?" "Well?" Sally was frightened, but simulating defiance. "It's true, isn't it?" "Where'd you get it?" "Shop." She was so afraid that she was insolent. "I s'pose you're _used_ to this sort of thing," cried Toby. He sat up beside her, his face deeply crimsoned, his expression accusing. "Used to it, are you?" "No!" answered Sally. "What did you get it for?" Sally could not hide her trembling. She was blanched, and her shoulder was raised as if to avoid a blow. It came. Toby released her wrist, and seized her shoulder. Roughly, he so shoved her away from him that she was thrown upon her face. She scrambled out of bed, and stood panting before him, while Toby, kicking down the bedclothes, seemed crouched upon the bed as if he might murderously spring at her. She watched his hands, fascinated by an imagination of their grip upon her throat. "What did you get it for?" Toby repeated, in a voice of madness. "To come here."