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. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. " "I never doubted the latter point, I assure you, Madam," observed Mrs. It seems Valade visited him that day to present his credentials, and Charvill posted straight off to inform his great-uncle. " "I know; but …" "And sometimes you say out loud: 'That's great stuff!' I never make any sound.
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