Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. 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. “It is a secret mission,” she declared. I can get into my clothes. ’ ‘Nonsense. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest.
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