CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. He was a stranger. 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. ’ ‘Damnation!’ Gerald burst out, crossing towards her. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice. He just walked in a few minutes ago.
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