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 am a thing to be used. She was for ever scanning luggage and finding her way about the world, via these miniature pictures. He had very nearly cleared the board, when a knock was heard below, and descending at the summons, he found his two janizaries. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. She had fallen asleep. Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging.
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