Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. . ” She lied. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. 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. . When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne.
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