” She pulled her dress back over her breasts, glad for the elastic that she had sewn in. ‘What you can do, Lucy, rather than make enquiries, is introduce me to this comte and comtesse. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. 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.
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