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. She was gone. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. "So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. " "Don't stir, or they'll chain you to the wall," said his mother detaining him.
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