Love in a Muddle

by Christine Jope-Slade

I took it very gently from her fingers.

I would not destroy it, it was not mine to destroy; I would cherish it very carefully, and after a while I would send it to him anonymously.

I realised that the need for my presence at Cromer Court was over; I was free to go, my part was played and the curtain was down.

Exit Pamela Burbridge from Cheneston Cromer's life.

I staggered to my feet.

It is easy to do dramatic things, to make your exit; but to slip away when you want to stay, when your whole heart is aching to stay, to make exits so silently and unostentatiously that the ones you long to miss you hardly know that you are gone—that is the hardest of all.

I knew before I left Mrs. Cromer's side that I was going to run away—away from Cheneston and Walter Markham and mother and father.

I had to. I couldn't stay and face things out.

To begin somewhere else all over again.

It was the explanation I was afraid of, explanations to mother, to father, to Cheneston, to Walter Markham.