’ An expression of livid fury contorted the young man’s face and he thrust the coins back at the major. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. His vicious abusiveness vanished. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. He unhooked it from the front clasp. 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. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend.
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