At last, one evening, her guess was justified. She had taken her coat, and had walked to the end of the road; and just as she turned back, without hope, she saw a burly figure almost opposite. It was Toby, in a sailor's short thick jacket, and his neck muffled, and a cap over his eyes. He was standing in the shadow, and as she crossed to him allowed Sally to enter that same embracing darkness which safely hid them both. She gave a little savage cry, and was in his strong arms, almost crazed with relief and her physical sense of his so long withheld nearness. She could feel herself shuddering and trembling, but she was not directly conscious of this. All she felt was a passionate joy at being able to abandon all her nervous self-control to this firmness and clenched vigour. "Oh, Toby, Toby!" she whimpered, clutching him; and then no more for several minutes. Toby did not speak. He hugged Sally until she was breathless, and his hot kiss made her cheek burn. She pressed her forehead with all her strength against his breast, and longed that in this moment she might for ever lose all knowledge of the trials which beset her. The trembling persisted for a long time; and then, as she was comforted, it began to subside. "My girl, my girl!" muttered Toby, in a thick voice, warm against her ear. "Toby, listen.... Toby, I'm going to have a baby--it's your baby. What _shall_ I do? Toby!" Sally clung to him. "I'm so frightened, Toby." "Baby? Christ!" As suddenly, he repulsed her. "You say it's _me_. It's a lie! How d'you know? You little liar, you. What's your game?" "Of course it's yours," fiercely cried Sally. "I told you." "D'you think I believe that!" He was brutally incredulous. He held her away. "Why, you dirty little liar, you'd swear _anything_." A ghastly anger took command of Sally. "I told you," she steadily repeated. But she made no attempt to go back to him. They stood quite apart in the difficult gloom. "I know you did. You told me you loved me. You married _him_." "I _told_ you," she obstinately went on. "I told you. I don't know what to do. He'll find out. He's bound to find out." "He'll think it's his," said Toby. "By God, I believe it is." "You're mad!" cried Sally. "He knows it _can't_ be. And you know it, too. I tell you I shall be found out and disgraced." She was not crying. Her pride was aroused. She was full of scorn for one who could disbelieve what she herself knew to be true. "Well?" Toby demanded. "What of it? Whose fault is it?" He was brutally angry, and a little frightened and blustering. They were still at arm's length in the darkness of the deserted street. There was no lamp near them, and the houses behind were unlighted. Sally's heart fell. She was almost paralysed at Toby's tone. She was puzzled and chagrined and angry. And then a change of mood came abruptly upon her. "Don't you love me?" she mournfully asked. "I thought you did. I love _you_, Toby. I thought you loved me.