She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you. Sheppard, faintly. I will ring if I want you. "If this document is correct," continued Wood, "and I am persuaded it is so,— you are as unfortunate as wicked. We just want to ask her a few questions about an old murder case. 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. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. "Do you think I'd take the trouble to announce him? These are persons of consequence, I tell you. .
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