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 realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. Thank goodness you’ll understand. " Casting one look of anguish at his leader, Blueskin then darted down the passage. He must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. For your information, it was paradise there. Then Mr. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 09-09-2024 04:19:28
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