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 mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. E. ” He repeated several times that he would trust her, though it remained obscure just exactly where the trust came in. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. “All day. But the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him.
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