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. What were your findings?” Lucy asked. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. She was delivered home by 11:30pm. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle.
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