It’s—it’s a social difference. 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. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow.
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