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. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. . It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. For he come after her, did Mr Charvill. Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. . ” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered. ” She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly.
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