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. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. He had taken it back. " "Very. " "When you please, Sir," said Thames, coldly. Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened. She listened, her suspicions confirmed.
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