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. I somehow understood. " "Ha!" exclaimed Jack, drawing in his breath, and leaning forward with intense curiosity. \" He said to her as he threw the gear into Park. ‘Must be still downstairs. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage.
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