'I think perhaps I had better tell you at once--I am very
sorry!--but I shall be leaving you in a month. I told your father so
last night.'
Pamela looked the astonishment she felt. For the moment she was
tongue-tied. Was she glad or sorry? She did not know. But the
instinct of good manners came to her aid.
'Can't you stand us?' she said bluntly. 'I expect you can't.'
Elizabeth laughed uncomfortably.
'Why, you've all been so kind to me. But I think perhaps'--she
paused, trying to find her words--'I didn't quite understand--when I
came--how much I still wanted to be doing things for the war--'
'Why, you might do heaps of things!' cried Pamela. 'You have been
doing them. Taking an interest in the farms, I mean--and all that.'
'Well, but--' Elizabeth's brow puckered.
Then she broke into a frank laugh--'After all, that wasn't what I
was engaged for, was it?'
'No--but you seemed to like to do it. And it's war-work,' said
Pamela, inexorably.
Elizabeth was dismally conscious of her own apparent
inconsistencies.
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