The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. But ——” A look checked him. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. But, after all, what does that matter? He is very much taken with me. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it. Still, one never could tell. The only departure which he made from the fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be induced to wear. Lucy followed her. 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. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. “John, did those roses cost a fortune?” “Like I’m going to tell you!” “Oh, John, they were so pretty, but they must have cost an arm and a leg, and you should be saving for college. ’ Her eyes narrowed.
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