She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. “I will be off,” she declared. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. " "I see. ” He took out his watch. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. ’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall.
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