You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. 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. " "Never mind it, my dear Mrs. He felt he was human wisdom prudentially interpolated. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. "One'd think it rained fares, as well as blowed great guns.
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