Coquette by Frank Swinnerton
with moreresolution, she ran towards home, letting herself in with a sense ofbrazen guilt at her lateness, and treading softly up the stairs. Whenshe was in the room, she shuddered a little, at the cold, and in herexcitement. Then she lighted the lamp and looked at herself in themirror--at her bright, betraying eyes, at her mouth, which was alsobetraying, and at her hair and cheeks and brows and hands. She waslaughing, but not aloud. Her laughter was the mirth of happy excitement.And, still so happy, she began to undress; and then thought she wouldmake herself a cup of tea. So she finished undressing while the kettleboiled, and was sitting up in bed drinking her tea when she heard Tobygo upstairs. His movements made her start, and the tea dribbed over theside of the cup. Into her head suddenly came a memory of her own words:"And I'll think of you, and wish you were there."
"And so I do," she suddenly whispered. "So I do. Oh, I'm wicked. I'mwicked!" She was trembling, and forgetting everything, her eyes fixedupon the wall vaguely grey before her, outside the pale ray of the lamp.Mechanically, she sipped again, and the tea ran warmly into her throat."No, I'm not wicked," Sally argued. "I'm not. 'Tisn't wicked to love anyone like I do Toby. It's wonderful. Fancy me in love! And Toby ... well,liking me. Oo, he is strong and big. Wonder if he's brave? I shouldthink so. You couldn't be as strong as him and not be brave. Oh, I lovehim." She remembered their caresses, unembarrassed and exulting. Sheknew what it was to be loved. She knew ... she knew everything.Everything that made people love each other and want to be alwaystogether. Her mind persistently went on kneading into a general memorythe detached memories of the evening, and she was excited and full oflonging for Toby. Slowly she drank her tea, without thinking of it atall, but accepting its comfort. Her shoulders began to feel cold, andshe shivered as she finished the cup.
Sally slid out of bed to replace the cup and to put out the lamp. As herhand was outstretched she thought she heard a faint noise, but amoment's startled listening reassured her. It had been nothing. Shelowered the wick, and blew out the remaining small blue rim of light.Another instant, and she would have been back in bed, snuggled down inthe warmth. But at that instant she heard a further sound, this time theturning of the door handle. She froze with sudden dread. In the darknessshe could see nothing.
"Who's there?" she whispered.
The door must slightly have opened. She could now see it open in thegloom.
"Sally."
It was Toby. Joy took the place of fear. He was inside the door, andshe was in his arms, and the door was closed again behind them.
"My dear," Sally was saying, in a thick little caressing voice. "Mydear."
"Had to come," mumbled Toby, hoarsely. "Thought of you all alone. Iwanted you. See, I had to come."
"Of course you did," murmured Sally, her spirit leaping up and up intempestuous excitement. "Toby, you do love me? You _do_ truly love me?"
She had no sense then of anything but her love for him and his love forher. She was carried right past caution and thought. She was in hisarms, and she was happy. And Toby, a dim figure of burly strength, waskissing her until she was blinded and choking with excitement beyond allshe had ever felt. Everything conspired to affect her--all suppressions,all knowledges, all curiosities and vanities. Nothing but caution couldhave restrained her, and caution was forgotten. She was vehemently movedand beyond judgment or reflection. Her one desire was to give herself tothe man she loved, the man who loved her. And the opportunity was uponthem as they were in the first fever of their passion.
"And so I do," she suddenly whispered. "So I do. Oh, I'm wicked. I'mwicked!" She was trembling, and forgetting everything, her eyes fixedupon the wall vaguely grey before her, outside the pale ray of the lamp.Mechanically, she sipped again, and the tea ran warmly into her throat."No, I'm not wicked," Sally argued. "I'm not. 'Tisn't wicked to love anyone like I do Toby. It's wonderful. Fancy me in love! And Toby ... well,liking me. Oo, he is strong and big. Wonder if he's brave? I shouldthink so. You couldn't be as strong as him and not be brave. Oh, I lovehim." She remembered their caresses, unembarrassed and exulting. Sheknew what it was to be loved. She knew ... she knew everything.Everything that made people love each other and want to be alwaystogether. Her mind persistently went on kneading into a general memorythe detached memories of the evening, and she was excited and full oflonging for Toby. Slowly she drank her tea, without thinking of it atall, but accepting its comfort. Her shoulders began to feel cold, andshe shivered as she finished the cup.
Sally slid out of bed to replace the cup and to put out the lamp. As herhand was outstretched she thought she heard a faint noise, but amoment's startled listening reassured her. It had been nothing. Shelowered the wick, and blew out the remaining small blue rim of light.Another instant, and she would have been back in bed, snuggled down inthe warmth. But at that instant she heard a further sound, this time theturning of the door handle. She froze with sudden dread. In the darknessshe could see nothing.
"Who's there?" she whispered.
The door must slightly have opened. She could now see it open in thegloom.
"Sally."
It was Toby. Joy took the place of fear. He was inside the door, andshe was in his arms, and the door was closed again behind them.
"My dear," Sally was saying, in a thick little caressing voice. "Mydear."
"Had to come," mumbled Toby, hoarsely. "Thought of you all alone. Iwanted you. See, I had to come."
"Of course you did," murmured Sally, her spirit leaping up and up intempestuous excitement. "Toby, you do love me? You _do_ truly love me?"
She had no sense then of anything but her love for him and his love forher. She was carried right past caution and thought. She was in hisarms, and she was happy. And Toby, a dim figure of burly strength, waskissing her until she was blinded and choking with excitement beyond allshe had ever felt. Everything conspired to affect her--all suppressions,all knowledges, all curiosities and vanities. Nothing but caution couldhave restrained her, and caution was forgotten. She was vehemently movedand beyond judgment or reflection. Her one desire was to give herself tothe man she loved, the man who loved her. And the opportunity was uponthem as they were in the first fever of their passion.