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. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. " "Ha!" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. . She missed them already. "A husband has little to fear from his wife's kinsfolk. “It has been a delightful evening for me. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. "You'll find her quiet enough to-day, Sir," observed the woman, as they walked along; "but she has been very outrageous latterly. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 20:29:31