" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ” “That is why they hissed me, then?” “Of course. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. Wood could stand it no longer. 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. "Took a great fancy to you.
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