“Then we must try and make London endurable for you,” he remarked cheerfully. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. ‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me. Were the parents agreeable? Were they of age? Had the license been procured? But here, in a far country, only the velvet manacles of wedlock were necessary. 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. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. ” John tried to direct the topic away from him.
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