“Oh. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. They all balk because there aren't any petticoats. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. “That’s it,” she said. 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. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier.
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