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. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said. ‘I don’t propose doing anything with you. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. You complain of a condition, but you leave the correction to someone else. Perhaps I'd better open it now. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. This is a tale of two young fools.
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