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. “Stop! Don’t put your face there. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone. . Earles,” she exclaimed. In a little while he and she were talking quite easily and agreeably. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. The prisoner breathed with difficulty.
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