That was what she must get rid of,
that feeling of fear, that scent of adverse criticism.
She would sit still 'till she was perfectly calm, perfectly
accustomed to the idea that Lawrence Cardiff had come to
remonstrate with her, and had come because--because what
she had been gradually becoming convinced of all these
months was true. He was so clever, so distinguished, he
had his eyes and his voice and his whole self so perfectly
under control, that she never could be quite, _quite_
sure--but now! And in spite of herself her heart beat
faster at the anticipation of what he might be waiting
to say to her not twenty steps away. She hid her face in
the pillow to laugh at the thought of how deliciously
the interference of an elderly lover would lend itself
to the piece of work, which she saw in fascinating
development under her hand, and she had an instantaneous
flash of regret that she couldn't use it--no, she couldn't
possibly. With fingers that trembled a little she twisted
her hair into a knot that became her better, and gave an
adjusting pat to the fluffy ends around her forehead.
"Nous en ferons une comedie adorable!" she nodded at the
girl in the glass; and then, with the face and manner of
a child detected in some mischief who yet expects to be
forgiven, she went into the drawing-room.
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