Love in a Muddle

by Christine Jope-Slade

I went back to Cromer Court a different person.

I met Cheneston as a different person.

I know that he was different.

Nothing stands still.

"How is he?" he said at once; and I answered:

"They think he will pull through."

"Oh, Pam!" he said; and then "Thank God!"

"Mother came to the hospital," I told him as I climbed into the dog-cart. "Grace Gilpin seemed to think I would be there. It was rather funny her thinking that."

"I told her—I wrote," he said.

I smiled; the don't-care mood was flourishing. I could feel it steadily swallowing up my little qualms and pitiful sense of honour and dignity, they were vanishing in it like débris thrown on thoroughly efficient quicksands.