She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. “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. When Mrs. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow. . Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. “These are for you. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. "I shall go back and finish my supper," said Mrs. " Mr. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone.
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