“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. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. But her heart kept on sinking. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands.
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