"Er ... I never ... see you now," he began. Sally looked up at his tall figure, thrown sharply into relief by the clear light from a window upon the stairs, and by the pale grey distemper of the wall behind him. Again she noticed that creeping redness under the grey of his cheeks, and the almost liquid appeal which he directed at her. "I ... er ... I meant to ask you.... To-morrow...." "Oh, thank you, Mr. Bertram! I'd love to," cried Sally, quickly. He was passionately relieved, as she could see. Not only by her acceptance of his intended suggestion, but at the salvation of his tongue. "At the corner? Seven o'clock? At the corner? Where ... where ... where we met before? Really? Fine!" He nodded, and took off his hat, and climbed the stair. Sally, very sedate, descended. Well, she was still all right, then. How strange, she was quite cool! She was not at all elated! That was because of the delay, which had encouraged indifference; but it was also because the invitation was expected and because Sally was no longer to be shaken as she would have been by a novelty. She was ready. She was once again a general surveying the certainties of combat with a foe inferior in resources to herself. So the next evening she deliberately stayed later than the other girls, and worked on with a garment which had occupied her attention all the afternoon. She was doing some plain embroidery upon a silk frock. It was upon this occasion that she received a great mark of favour from Miss Summers. Miss Summers, trusting Sally entirely, showed her how to lock the door after her. She had just to slip the catch, and slam the door, and nobody could enter the room without first using a key. And Miss Summers went, leaving Sally alone in the workroom. It was a thing hitherto unknown. It showed trust which had never been given to one of the other girls. Apart from Madam and Gaga, if one or both of them should still be working in Madam's room, Sally was at liberty, and in sole occupation of the establishment. It did not occur to Sally to think so; but Miss Summers would never have given her this privilege if she had not known that Madam also would approve. It would have been too dangerous a responsibility for Miss Summers unsupported. Madam must have seen that petty theft was a thing which did not tempt Sally. She was too ambitious for that, and obviously so. Keen judge of character as Madam was she must have known it all. But neither Madam nor Miss Summers could have realised--as both, with their experience of girls, should have done--that there were possibilities other than theft. Sally had listened to the explanation of the door catch, and had promised to shake the door when she left, so as to make sure that it was fast; but her only conscious thought had been one of surprise and delight that she should be left alone. Alone to do as she pleased. Alone to sing, dance, loiter. Alone, perhaps, with Gaga. At that notion she had a curious little thrill of excitement.