"Off with him to Newgate!" cried Jonathan. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. 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. “Was I that bad?” He asked. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. " "Hush!" replied Mrs. \" He leaned at a steeper pitch. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. She nodded. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly.
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