“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. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. Stanley’s pace slackened. The risk I run is nothing to yours. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled.
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