As I stepped out of the lift at the bottom someone grasped my arm and
said:
"Pam! Pamela Burbridge!"
It was Grace Gilpin.
She looked simply gorgeous.
She wore a cloak of dull velvet the exact colour of her hair, with a
great skunk collar. There was a sort of laughing radiancy about her, as
if she were bubbling and dancing with happiness.
I wondered if she knew that my people didn't know where I was. I
thought I could trust mother for that. I was right.
"I met Mrs. Burbridge not so very long ago," she said. "She was most
mysterious and injured about you, Pam. What have you been doing? She
seemed quite martyred. I couldn't get anything out of her. Have you got
married, or gone on the stage, or what? Won't Cheneston be surprised!
You must stay and have dinner with us and tell us all your misdeeds."
"Cheneston?" I said.
People were drinking their coffee and staring at Grace, just as they
always did.
"Yes, he's home on leave and staying here. Pam--didn't you know I was
married?"
"Yes," I lied swiftly.
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.
That queer, quizzical, bored look was on his face. He's the only man
whose thoughts I ever pined to know.