She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. 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. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. "Show me your warrant!" said Wood, almost driven to his wit's-end; "perhaps it isn't regular?" "Ask him who he is?" suggested Thames. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her.
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