” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. 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. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. He recoiled from the sting. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away. Nobody toys with me. He stood away from her. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you. Clergymen were human.
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