How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant. 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 will do all this not because I love you, but—because you are Anna’s sister. Poor little one. Capes came back into her mind. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly.
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