” Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock. 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 could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. Never any doubt of it. Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch. I am certainly no ghost.
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