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. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. Those with true power were the Oracles. “It isn’t objections exactly. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Lucy marveled at the billiards table and the sauna. This gloom was impossible.
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