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. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. “I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. I think that there is no better friend for a girl than a man rather older than herself. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her.
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