Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. Never was there another girl like this one. 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 said it audibly, having learned long since that an audible prayer was a concentrated one. Do you expect me, I wonder. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. Sheer calculation on his. ’ ‘You mean Valade? Certainly not. ” She said with love for them. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents.
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