” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. " "Or the flat stones in the meadows, teeming with life underneath. “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. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. "Oh! Jack! Jack!—you little know what a price I've paid for you!" "Well, I'm glad those women are gone," remarked Shotbolt. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic.
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