’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. Then she called a hansom and drove home. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. 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 was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. . She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. Mr. ” She laughed. Lost ground must be regained. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone.
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