’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. She continued to fan herself. He is an awfully good sort— and now he has come to me to help him if I can. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. 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. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. Your maid has twenty minutes to pack your dressing case for one night, and you have the same time to change into a travelling dress. At once. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. She ignored it until it repeated itself. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid.
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