From the first I could see that neither believed my story. "You're on," said O'Higgins. ” A little murmur of expectation, an audible silence announced the coming of “Alcide. ” She spoke with a certain asperity. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. " "At all events, let me send her away, my dear," supplicated the carpenter, anxious to avert the impending storm. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. 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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