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. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. ” She paused for a moment. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. English a little! ‘You ought to have English only. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs.
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