A sob was strangled in her throat. ’ Martha frowned. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit. \" \"Not this Saturday, sweetie. 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.
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