It wasn’t long ago that a girl went straight from the farm to her husband, just as soon as her period came and she could make babies. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. She was, she guessed, close to the library. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. 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. “Please forgive me, Lucy.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 30-06-2024 09:54:40
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