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. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. ToC On the following night—namely Monday,—the family assembled together, for the first time since the fatal event, in the chamber to which Thames had been introduced on his arrival at Dollis Hill. “And, you know, you’re altering us all.
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