"I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. I wanted to, that day in the Zoo. 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. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. “Which is Mr. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Melusine circled her adversary only far enough to give herself the aisle between the pews behind. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. They were inscribed with the name RIMBAUER, EMILIO J. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy.
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