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. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter's earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. His arm fell to his side. The mob pursued the thief-taker and his party all the way, and such missiles as could be collected were hurled at them. Who invented them? Nobody knows. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting.
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