She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. Wood; "and Blueskin, too. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. His science was a shared secret between them and she felt special to be trusted with them. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. 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. ‘Come on.
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