Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. 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.
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