A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. 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. ‘She wants you. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. “I have the right to be here. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. Wild will hang me. " "You read those yarns?" Spurlock's head came about, and there was eagerness in his eyes.
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