"Ah!" exclaimed Sir James. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. Wood in the deepest mourning. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. There was a certain amount of disputation, and meanwhile she went on at school. Only she is not Madame Valade at all. He crawled underneath the covers with her. The girl’s eyes never left his face. 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. “It has been a delightful evening for me. 181 < 22 > MICHELLE’S STORY The week at school was mostly uneventful save Michelle’s enthusiasm and constant ploys for attention. .
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