As for me, I felt a certain relief at having the carrying out of my duty made impossible for me.

I did not _want_ to tell my aunt and thus to break things off definitely and for good.

Something would have happened; the air might have cleared as it clears after a storm; I should have learnt where I stood.

But I was afraid of the knowledge.

Light in these dark places might reveal an abyss at my feet.
I wanted to let things slide.
My aunt had returned to her accounts, the accounts which were the cog-wheels that kept running the smooth course of the Etchingham estates.