"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. 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. ” “As a matter of fact, I happen to have got a little into debt. Do you know, I am beginning to believe that we only exist nowadays by the tolerance of these millionaire tradesmen. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Believe me, it will be better by far that you should consent to marry me. It’s my other side of the moon.
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