But they were too late. But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. 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. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. I don’t know anyone. But he told me this much, that no matter how far Mr. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. He’s the handle of life for you. Mr.
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