She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. From then on he was Ruth's dog. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard. 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. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. "Get a chair, Austin. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. She nodded. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. It was Blueskin. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am.
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