There was a pause of some minutes while the cocoa was mixed; and they both drank it slowly, Sally conscious, as its warmth stole through her body, that she was less extremely unhappy than she had been. She felt a little better. She even kissed Gaga in wishing him goodnight, and received his eager kisses in return without flinching. At last she too went to her bed in the adjoining room, and undressed and lay down in the darkness. From where she lay Sally could hear Gaga moving, and could see the glimmer of the light in his room which would burn until the morning. And as she lay there all her tragic thoughts came flooding back with the intensity of a nightmare. The horrors, for a short time repelled, were stronger than ever. She was tensely awake. Every word exchanged between Toby and herself came ringing into her head. She was aghast at the stupidity, the cruel and brutal stupidity, of her lover. He her lover! Love! why he didn't know what love meant! He would take everything she had to give; and when he was asked to stand by her Toby would repudiate her claim upon him. She was filled with vicious hatred at his betrayal. That was what men were! That was what they did! Shirkers! They were all like that, except when they were ridiculous half-men like Gaga. What was she to do? What _could_ she do? Her brain became very clear and active. It was working with painful alertness, so rapidly that she often did not reach the end of one channel before she was embarked upon another. Toby was hopeless. She must act by herself. And what could she do? Supposing she could do nothing? Disgrace, failure.... She was frightened. Better anything than disclosure so ignominious. She thought of Gaga: very well, there was still time. He would be better soon, and once he was better she could easily persuade him that he was the father of her baby. That was the simplest plan, and one which had been so much taken for granted that she had not taken it sufficiently into account as the only safe course. Gaga could be deceived because he had no suspicion of all that went on in her mind, or of anything that had happened in her life. He would soon be better, and when once they were united he would be wholly in Sally's hands. Not yet, though. He must get well. A quick rush of relief came to her as a reassurance. She could have laughed at her own panic. Of course Gaga was the solution. He could be made to believe almost anything. But supposing ... supposing that he would always be ill? Then indeed she would be better dead. Dead? But how could she die? She might long for death; but death was not an oblivion that could be called up at will. Sally pondered upon the possibilities.