Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. She gave her lips to his without resistance. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. 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. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. “Indeed,” she said, “it was very fortunate that I should have met you this afternoon. I will wish you success or failure, whichever is the better for you.
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