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 took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. “Thought so. Abruptly, Gerald turned. ’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. , like to forget all about it—even their names. It was Blueskin. "Is she dead?" "No—no," answered Hogarth. His face will be all I need.
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