“Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. There it is. Something is feeding upon them. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald. 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. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily.
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