I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. “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 went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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