She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. 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. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. He was an old, skilled vampire. The Jew, who was paralysed by his companion's fate, offered no resistance, and was instantly seized. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. He saw that she was tense. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. Too much blood has been shed already.
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