Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. She can't last long. “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. She heard their feet and muffled voices. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks.
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