All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. “Do it now. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. " "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. I must obey. All the same, I don’t admit it. Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. 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. " "Why, surely you don't think your guests would steal them," observed Rachel, archly. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. He was bewildered. “Your mother was a Gypsy. " "I had to. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling.
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