The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. The first person who issued from the Lodge was Mr. ” Ann Veronica did. . It just made me mad to the boiling point. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. “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. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned.
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