Free Who Pays the Piper? by Patricia Wentworth

no good putting it off.
    â€œWell? Is it yes?”
    Susan said, “Yes.”
    â€œIs that your word of honour?”
    â€œYes.”
    He went to the bell and pressed it.
    â€œThe car is waiting. I’ll carry Cathy out.”

CHAPTER XI
    Saturday to Sunday—Sunday to Monday. Susan walked in a nightmare. Her mind was clogged and dull. Past, present and future lay under a heavy weight of dread, and there was nothing she could do to break it or get free. Nothing she could do to get free, but endless tasks to take up every moment of her time.
    Cathy lay in her bed and neither moved nor spoke. She had to be fed and tended. Aunt Milly cried a good deal, and said darling Cathy had never been really strong and it was very hard to feel resigned. The house had to be kept, meals cooked and served, plates and dishes washed. Susan did everything. She remembered Aunt Milly’s fads, she remembered just how Cathy liked her hot milk.
    In the middle of the Sunday afternoon she sat down to write to Bill. The post went out at five. If she posted her letter then, he would get it by the second post on Monday morning. That would be all right. He mustn’t get it by the first post, because he was to see Gilbert Garnish at nine o’clock and he must be at his very best for that. She sat and looked at the paper for a long time. It had always been so easy to write to Bill, but it wasn’t easy now. She wrote:
    â€œI can’t marry you, Bill. I’m going to marry Lucas Dale.”
    She looked at the words, and it seemed to her that they were nonsense. Bill wouldn’t believe them. She would have to write something that would make him believe. She wrote again, adding word to word like a child writing from a copy:
    â€œIt doesn’t matter what you think about me, but you mustn’t let it spoil your work.”
    She wrote her name, and folded the sheet quickly without reading it through. When she had addressed and stamped the envelope she walked down the street and posted it at Mrs. Gill’s general shop, which was also the post office. Then she came home and told Mrs. O’Hara that she had broken off her engagement. Aunt Milly had a great deal to say about it and Susan had to listen.
    â€œOf course, my dear, I wouldn’t interfere for the world. And no one could say he was any sort of a match for you, though his father being so much respected and such an old friend did make a difference, as I told poor James at the time. And no one can be fonder of Bill than I am, but if you don’t feel quite sure about marrying him, it is really much better to break it off—I have always said so. Because, after all, an engagement isn’t a marriage, and divorce is a thing we haven’t ever had in our family, and I hope we never shall. So don’t marry him on any account unless you feel perfectly sure of yourself, though I’d like to see you happy and in a home of your own.”
    â€œI’m going to marry Mr. Dale,” said Susan, and went out of the room.
    Lucas Dale left her alone. He rang up once to inquire about Cathy, and said,
    â€œI’m writing to you. I won’t come and see you for a day or two. That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?”
    There was a faint relief in her voice as she said “Yes”.
    She got his letter an hour later. He wrote:
    â€œI will make everything as easy for you as I can. I know that I shall have all my courting to do after we are married. Please don’t be afraid of me. Please don’t think that I shall try and rush you. Once we are married you shall have all the time you want. I will go into Ledlington and make arrangements tomorrow morning. I won’t bother you till everything is settled. I thought perhaps Thursday——”
    Susan felt a piercing stab. Bill had said Thursday—if Gilbert Garnish gave him the job. But she wasn’t marrying Bill on Thursday, she was marrying Lucas Dale. Something in