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. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver. She found herself asking more and more curiously, “Why, on the principle of the survival of the fittest, have I any sense of beauty at all?” That enabled her to go on thinking about beauty when it seemed to her right that she should be thinking about biology. Melusine, her breath coming in short bursts, heard a sudden flurry of several heavy footsteps and harsh commands exchanged. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. . ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly.
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