"You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. Tears sprang to her eyes. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. 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. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. I hear her coming. “Oh. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise.
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