By rights I ought to have arrested her days ago. "I'm not going to get rid of you just yet. “But—your people!” she gasped. '" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs. 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.
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