Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. And through all these defences and into Old Palace Yard, into the very vitals of the defenders’ position, lumbered the unsuspected vans. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends. 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. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all. You don’t deserve it, but he does. " "All right. Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. My Dad doesn’t want it necessarily, but he realizes that if he doesn’t give my 185 Mom this one it’s divorce for sure. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door.
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