Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. “Why should women be dependent on men?” she asked; and the question was at once converted into a system of variations upon the theme of “Why are things as they are?”—“Why are human beings viviparous?”—“Why are people hungry thrice a day?”—“Why does one faint at danger?” She stood for a time looking at the dry limbs and still human face of that desiccated unwrapped mummy from the very beginnings of social life. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. I think he got sick of us and he disappeared not one week later. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. ’ A twinkle crept into Mrs Sindlesham’s eye.
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