” “No. " The attendant did not understand him. 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. “Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. You have taken even my knife.
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