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. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. " "That's right, Captain," rejoined Blueskin. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. “I do hope you will be able to do this, because I value men friends. Spurlock bent his head to his knees.
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