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 made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. “I wish he had,” she said. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. . Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands. Somehow logic could not explain her.
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