A good deal of the food will be in tins. " CHAPTER XIII. 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 has improved her style,” someone declared. He kissed her once on the lips with a passion of which, during all their days of married life, he had given no sign. A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. He could lose himself for hours at a time. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid.
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