” She turned a firelit face to her husband. . The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. 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 continued tenderly, almost affectionately. So it would always be between herself and Manning. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. ” “You do not flatter me,” she laughed.
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