. . 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. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. ” “Why?” “If I were bad at it, you would be on your way to the hospital by now. “It’s either now or never,” said Ann Veronica, again ascending this stile. And here against a wall were the plumtrees.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 22:49:54