She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. “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. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. “Girls. Too bad he’s not interested in any girl who’s not a musician.
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