\" She tended to watch television very infrequently. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. 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. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine. ’ She set down her glass with a snap. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. "Here's a cross-bite. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. An entire forest’s array of meats was served in courses brought out to the table. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. "The Golden One knows that I have seen the world; therefore follow my instructions. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head.
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