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. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. She came into the room. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. \"Thanks. Wood. . \"Sure, but you'll have to call from my Mom and Dad's room. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. WE don’t think they’re right, but they don’t think we are. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light.
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