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Melusine was loath to admit how much more lonely since Gerald chose not to visit her. " "Mr. 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 smiled. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. F. Wished to see you.
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