Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. “I want to find an address. 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. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child.
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