'What I want?' she said, bitterly. 'What I want doesn't matter, does it? I suppose I should be used to that by now-'
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. 'I'm not sending you back unless that's what you want. I would rather you stayed-'
'What?'
Wryly considering her wide-eyed look of surprise, he said, 'Look, it must be clear by now, even to you, that you've made yourself something of an asset around here, not just in our home, but in this community.' It was clear that this wasn't what he intended to say, but he plunged ahead. 'That Cross child would have died if you hadn't known what to do. The church choir sounds better than it ever has. From what I understand, you have a big solo coming up at Easter. You've rattled the cobwebs out of all the dark corners of this house and organised my files. Of course I want you to stay.' He considered her for a long moment, until she coloured under his scrutiny. 'All right, Miss Pamela Dee, as Mother says! You may now run away if you wish. I suppose you're still a little young to understand what I really meant to say to you.'
Taking his empty coffee mug, she left for the kitchen, trying not to smile. Of course she understood. He wasn't sending her away after all! She could stay if she wanted to! What could be more obvious?
She was so elated that for the rest of that day, and for the rest of that week, the little worm of melancholy which had been eating away at her heart was quiescent.
Inevitably, Pamela's thoughts turned often to Theo and the time he had kissed her. She didn't like to think that he'd done so merely because he was a typical male in his prime who merely wanted to satisfy his carnal appetite without any sort of regard for her as a person, that he thought of her only as an object, a toy, a possible outlet. Such thoughts evoked feelings of hurt, anger, betrayal. But who was she kidding! Her own body had betrayed her. If Theo hadn't allowed her to break free of his grasp, he could easily have taken her. And what was worse, Pamela had no illusions about his physical strength, which was easily more than a dominating force where a mere slip of a girl like herself was concerned, or that when he held her, that she wanted him in ways that made her flush to think of. That feeling in itself made her writhe, with embarrassment, with anticipated pleasure, with outright humiliation, with a strange sort of tingling in her vitals which she instinctively knew was the beginning of carnal desire.