Love in a Muddle

by Christine Jope-Slade

I knew that Cheneston was behind me. I knew it without turning. I felt it; once more the old thrilling excitement, the tension of expectancy, stirred in me—for another woman's husband.

"Where is that husband of mine?" Grace said in her familiar, high, sweet, laughing voice. "I do want you to meet."

I wanted to say, "He's behind me. You don't know it, but I do. I can feel it all down my neck and spine. He belongs to you, but you can't feel it. I'm glad you can't feel it. Glad! Glad! Glad!"

Instead I said:

"Good heavens! I was forgetting! I'm going on to dinner, and my husband's outside in the car. I went up to see some friends, and said I wouldn't be a second."

"You married, Pam! I never knew that!"

"I must absolutely fly!" I said.

"But, Pam—I'm so interested. Who did you marry, Pam? Hang it all! I'm thrilled to the core—you can't run away like this! Besides, Cheneston's here, and—— Pam, why did you break off your engagement to Cheneston?"

"Must fly!" I said.

I caught sight of Cheneston. He had not recognised my back, he was waiting to come forward and join his wife.