She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere. Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. 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 felt the need to get dressed, sensing that his parents would be home soon. "Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!" cried Thames.
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