f 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.

At the sight of her all that Cardiff was ready to say
vanished from the surface of his mind. The room was
already gray in the twilight. He drew her by both hands
to the nearest window, and looked at her mutely,
searchingly. It seemed to him that she, who was so quick
of apprehension, ought to know why he had come without
words, and her submission deepened his feeling of a
complete understanding between them.

"I've washed it all off!" said she naively, lifting her
face to his scrutiny. "It's not an improvement by daylight,
you know."

He smiled a little, but he did not release her hands.
"Elfrida, you must come home."

"Let us sit down," she said, drawing them away. He had
a trifle too much advantage, standing so close to her,
tall and firm in the dusk, knowing what he wanted, and
with that tenderness in his voice. Not that she had the
most far-away intention of yielding, but she did not want
their little farce to be spoiled by any complications
that might mar her pleasure in looking back upon it. "I
think," said she, "you will find that a comfortable
chair," and she showed him one which stood where all the
daylight that came through the torn curtains concentrated
itself. From her own sea