" This placard attracted universal attention. Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. The perception of him flooded her being. . ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. 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. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. A Madame Valade and her husband.
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