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 was already aware of the fact. Melusine circled her adversary only far enough to give herself the aisle between the pews behind. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. "I am too much honoured—too happy in the union. We've never caught him cheating at cards; too clever; but we know he cheats. Sebastian had come to visit his old friend and former wife.
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