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She thrashed and screamed as he wrestled her back towards the bed. Heard voices. . The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class. “Of course!” he said. —I do not congratulate you on your success. “I should like to understand you,” he said. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. 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. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon.
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