” “God, Lucy, you’re always so serious! I was only joking!” She pulled her underwear on and fiddled with the legs of her tight jeans. Paris copies London. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. 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. . He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. ” “As long as you remain under my roof—” he began, and paused.
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