“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 had seen Mrs. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. Then he rallied, smiling a little.
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