to be hastened: hurry would save her from deliberate choice.
"I did not mean him to wait long enough for that needlework to be finished," she said, lifting her hands to stroke the backward curves of her hair, while she rose from her seat and stood still.
"But if you don't feel able to decide?" said Mrs Davilow, sympathisingly.
"I must decide," said Gwendolen, walking to the writing-table and seating herself. All the while there was a busy undercurrent in her, like the thought of a man who keeps up a dialogue while he is considering how he can slip away. Why should she not let him come? It bound her to nothing. He had been to Leubronn after her: of course he meant a direct unmistakable renewal of the suit which before had been only implied. What then? She could reject him. Why was she to deny herself the freedom of doing this—which she would like to do?
"If Mr Grandcourt has only just returned from Leubronn," said Mrs Davilow, observing that Gwendolen leaned back in her chair after taking the pen in her hand—"I wonder whether he has heard of our misfortunes."
"That could make no difference to a man in his position," said Gwendolen, rather contemptuously.
