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. ‘No. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. " "You may go, and welcome, Madam!" rejoined Kneebone, spitefully. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief. “Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection. . ’ She frowned suddenly.
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