She hastened past. I am ready to wait for you, to wait your pleasure, to give all my life to winning it. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. 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. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. ‘You’ll make shadows. Well, kill me. I do forgive him; but he will never know now. It was impossible to meet the motion bodily.
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