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. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. ” She chilled Ann Veronica a little by that last phrase, and yet the magnetism of her fellowship and enthusiasm was very strong; and it was pleasant to be made out a heroine after so much expostulation and so many secret doubts. While they were thus occupied, a maid-servant entered the room, and stated that a person was without who had a packet for Captain Darrell, which must be delivered into his own hands. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. \"Borrowed a pencil. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 20-09-2024 01:51:25
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