"Enough's as good as a feast. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ’ ‘On the contrary. 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. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. ToC "How do you mean to act, Sir?" inquired Trenchard, as soon as they were left alone. Mr. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness.
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