"Hush!" she whispered, and went silently along the balcony. "What d'you want?" "I want you." Toby's voice came hissing into her ear, and she saw him at last. He was standing, a burly figure, in the shadow of a screen, and remained quite still, hidden. "What did you come for? How did you get here?" "Went to your house. Frightened 'em." Toby laughed grimly. "Thought you'd got away, didn't you? Well, here I am." His tone became suddenly ferocious. "See?" "You can't ... we can't talk. My husband's there--in that room. He'll hear. He saw you last night." "I got to see you," Toby whispered, obstinately. "See? I mean to say, I got to know what you're going to do." Sally gave a contemptuous laugh. So he had followed her for that! "Well, I'm well rid of _you_," she answered. "I see what _you_ are." "Oh, you do, do you...." said Toby. He gripped her arm. "Not so much of that, Sal. D'you see? I won't have it. You belong to me." "I don't!" But Sally was only waiting for his fierce embrace, and longing for it. "I don't like you. I don't want you. I've had enough. You let me down." Toby started. His voice became thick with anger. "My Christ! Who let anybody down? What did you do to me? Eh? You married this chap. You did it for yourself. Let you down, do I? Oh, I'm a good mind to kill you, Sal." Sally shivered. She knew he might do it. He _could_ do it. It was his nature. But she answered him defiantly, sneeringly. "Yes, if you want to be hung for it." Toby was holding her so that her arms were being bruised. He pulled her towards him, and kissed her again and again. He was crushing her. "See?" he said. "That's how you belong to me." "Well, what about it?" panted Sally. "Let me go.... Just because you're strong." "You're coming off with me. See? Now." "I'm not." She was equally determined. "Now. Can you get your hat?" "I'm not," repeated Sally. Toby swung her off her feet with one arm. "See?" he announced again. "That's what." "Go on, that's all you can do," answered Sally, savagely. "You clear off. I've had enough of it." She dived suddenly, and escaped from him. She was a few steps away, and Toby was in pursuit. As he followed, he kicked against one of the little iron tables, which he had not seen in the half-light, and sent it crashing to the floor. Amid their silence it made a hideous noise. Sally drew herself upright, terrified into rigidity. This was the finish--the finish. It was all over now. She was beaten. She.... And as she stared she saw that the French window of the bedroom was open--had been open, perhaps, all the time,--and that Gaga was standing there, as if he had overheard all that they had said. "Sally!" he cried in a sharp voice of alarm. "Oh, my God! Oh, my _God_!"