But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. "My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. He began to tell me something—and stopped. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. " "You are very kind, Sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. 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.
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