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. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice. “Stay where you are for a moment,” she directed. The door opened. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. \" She sat down on a nearby bench. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. ” Lucy added, growing weary. ’ ‘And you do not know me.
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