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. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. And for me there is only one treasure-house. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. "I will be there at the time. . “To the best of my belief,” she said, with quiet dignity, “I have never seen either of you before in my life. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. C. ” Lucy relied.
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