I'll tell you what. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. “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. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. She could think of nothing more to say.
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