Parbleu, but she was a fool. " "Come along, master," said the waterman. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. 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. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. ” “And besides, when it comes to the idea of queens,” Ann Veronica went on, “there’s twenty-one and a half million women to twenty million men. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door.
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