Since rising from an altogether unsatisfactory night, Cat had become deeply apprehensive of seeing Hazelforth again. Her acceptance of his invitation to drive out that afternoon had been granted more from a sense of general confusion than a true desire to be thrust again into his company after so perplexing a meeting. She did, however, cherish a faint hope of restoring herself to his good opinion, which she feared must surely have been jeopardized. Cat spent the morning hours hopelessly tangling a piece of fancywork she had begun several days before. Such domestic undertakings had never held any fascination for her, and her characteristic lack of patience was responsible for her never having finished a single piece. Since coming to London, however, she had put her hand to one project or another in a more or less desultory manner as part of her attempt to project a conventional mien. Today's efforts were more disastrous than usual, for Cat's thoughts were quite taken up with what had passed the day before.
