The blood flowed slowly back into Sally's face, and her heart, whichhad leaped madly for an instant at the sound of his voice, resumed itsnormal beat. The suddenness of the shock over, she was surprised to findherself perfectly calm. Always when she had imagined this meeting,knowing that it would have to take place sooner or later, she had feltsomething akin to panic: but now that it had actually occurred it hardlyseemed to stir her. The events of the night had left her incapable ofany violent emotion.

　　"Hullo, Sally!" said Gerald.

　　He spoke thickly, and there was a foolish smile on his face as he stoodswaying with one hand on the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves,collarless: and it was plain that he had been drinking heavily. His facewas white and puffy, and about him there hung like a nimbus a soddendisreputableness.

　　Sally did not speak. Weighed down before by a numbing exhaustion, sheseemed now to have passed into that second phase in which over-tirednerves enter upon a sort of Indian summer of abnormal alertness. Shelooked at him quietly, coolly and altogether dispassionately, as if hehad been a stranger.

　　"Hullo!" said Gerald again.

　　"What do you want?" said Sally.

　　"Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'd come in.""What do you want?"The weak smile which had seemed pinned on Gerald's face vanished. Atear rolled down his cheek. His intoxication had reached the maudlinstage.

　　"Sally... S-Sally... I'm very miserable." He slurred awkwardly over thedifficult syllables. "Heard your voice. Saw the door open. Thought I'dcome in."Something flicked at the back of Sally's mind. She seemed to have beenthrough all this before. Then she remembered. This was simply Mr.

　　Reginald Cracknell over again.

　　"I think you had better go to bed, Gerald," she said steadily. Nothingabout him seemed to touch her now, neither the sight of him nor hisshameless misery.

　　"What's the use? Can't sleep. No good. Couldn't sleep. Sally, youdon't know how worried I am. I see what a fool I've been."Sally made a quick gesture, to check what she supposed was about todevelop into a belated expression of regret for his treatment ofherself. She did not want to stand there listening to Gerald apologizingwith tears for having done his best to wreck her life. But it seemedthat it was not this that was weighing upon his soul.

　　"I was a fool ever to try writing plays," he went on. "Got a winnerfirst time, but can't repeat. It's no good. Ought to have stuck tonewspaper work. I'm good at that. Shall have to go back to it. Hadanother frost to-night. No good trying any more. Shall have to go backto the old grind, damn it."He wept softly, full of pity for his hard case.

　　"Very miserable," he murmured.