I always thought that I could find and destroy all of her children, but there was no keeping up with it. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. 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. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. She is no longer mine; she is yours. " "Fooled or not," returned Mrs. I am carrying back a hundred new books and forty new records for the piano-player.
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