” “I’m so glad. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. She could feel her face turning beet red. 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. " "Did you discover any trace of footsteps?" inquired Jack eagerly. "Well, Sir," said Kneebone, when the other concluded, "I shall certainly not oppose his capture, but, at the same time, I'll lend you no assistance. After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room.
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