The girl’s eyes never left his face. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. 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. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. ’ ‘Yes, and it seems to me a very strange thing that he interferes all the time in my affairs when I do not want him to do so,’ Melusine said aggrievedly, ‘and the very first time that I wish him in truth to rescue me, he is not there.
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