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. So go up-stairs and get your things together while I look out for a hansom. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked.
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This video was uploaded to newyorkairportlimo.mobi on 03-07-2024 15:09:27
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