Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. “For my part I can see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with their demure manner and atrocious songs. Days later, Sebastian found her by the lake, sobbing. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy city, and become degenerates. But native! She must watch out. She took to listening through closed doors. . "Give me the link," cried Jonathan. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. 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. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said.
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