"Surely you are glad for Pam's sake, Mr. Cromer," the Colonel's wife interrupted reproachfully.
I think Cheneston had utterly and completely forgotten me until that moment. He turned and looked at me in bewilderment; I suppose he suddenly realised that his enforced stay in the town would necessitate the continuation of our supposed engagement.
He drew a long breath.
"Of course," he said, quite quietly, "of course, Mrs. Walters."
You would imagine that when Fate calmly picked up two people, shook them, and then placed them in a position alien to anything they had ever planned or dreamed of, they would remain in a state of scared chaos; but it isn't so.
When we had seen the train off, Cheneston and I walked back to the camp, quite quietly.
"Poor little kid!" he said. "One never anticipated this, did one?"
"No," I answered. I was thinking that God had made the morning for lovers to walk in—the mist had not lifted, the sun shimmered golden through it. It seemed to encase us in soft amber radiance. I had that only-two-people-in-the-whole-wide-world-to-day feeling, which must be so absolutely wonderful when you want to be quite, quite alone with a man and he wants to be quite, quite alone with you. I was watching a cobweb sewn with dewdrops; there was a sweet and foolish peace in my heart. I could only remember that Cheneston was going to stay.
"What are you going to do about it, Pam?"
"Oh—carry on," I said. I tried to speak lightly.