’ ‘Just what I thought, miss. 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 brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Both McCloskeys disappeared on the same night, without a single trace. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. " "You shall not stir a footstep.
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