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. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. “Mary Lucia. Let me bind you up, and then you can attend to her. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. " "It's no use going to bed," answered Rachel. I have an engagement with a theatrical agent—I believe for the ‘Unusual’. " "What'll it cost to have you all to myself for the day?" Ah Cum named the sum. ” She assented, smiling. His smile faded.
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