‘Poor Mary had no idea about the elopement Nicholas had undertaken,’ she told 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. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. " "Dare not!" echoed the carpenter; "I don't understand you, Joan.
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