She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. 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 general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. The Jew did not speak, but pointed to the audience-chamber.
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