“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. . There is a railroad. Stanley had never thought out. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark.
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