His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. Wood, popping her head through the window. ” He looked at her intently. . She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. 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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