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. " "By depriving him of 'em, eh! But I'm sorry you hurt his lordship, Terry. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize me. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. We won’t drag you away until you’ve been through the place from top to bottom. She stood up before him, smiling faintly.
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