. 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 turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. Wood, in indignant surprise. It was not possible. “Yes. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. Wood a very free-and-easy sort of stare, winked at Mr. To-morrow they will know the truth. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us.
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