Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. 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 replied. D. She took Mr. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. Wood is now in very affluent circumstances.
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