“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. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. It was necessary to think, and think quickly. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. Her little white hand stole across the table. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face.
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