Instead she coiled it into a chignon at the back of her head and hoped that Lord Hawkston would not think it looked too old-fashioned.
She chose her prettiest gown and then when she had put it on, wondered if she should change into another.
She had the feeling that it was important to look her best because, although she would hardly face the fact, she knew that her whole future depended on what he was about to decide for her.
As she sat waiting in the sitting room, forcing herself to sit still with her heart thumping tumultuously in her breast, she knew that her lips were dry with fear.
While she longed irrepressibly to see him again, she was afraid that, when she did so, he would tell her that he expected her to go home at once perhaps tomorrow.
‘How can I bear it? How can I face it?
