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. ’ He grimaced. . I don’t know what has come over me. " "Then I wish you good night. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt. Can you wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?” “I am not aware,” she answered, “that I have ever failed in doing so. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. “None, I thank you,” he answered. I miss her a lot. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice.
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