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. "With your friends, dear Mrs. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Giles's. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. I’ve got imagination. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. ‘Whereas my need was very great indeed.
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