Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. Sheppard, with a frenzied laugh. "Far from, it, Sir. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. 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. That’s all. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage.
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