“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. Winter came at the manor. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you. Mr. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. See you in Science Class.
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