I wonder if he really wants me to go home. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. “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,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. "Stir a foot, at your peril. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority.
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