She laid her hand upon his arm. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. She chuckled. “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. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk.
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