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. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. Besides, those things are deadly. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. " "It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress,—"the child!" "A diamond! Here, take the kid," cried Blueskin, slipping the infant adroitly under her scarf. ” “You mean you’re going to run away with me?” He asked in semi-seriousness. Drummond patted him on the shoulder. " "No, Sir Rowland.
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