“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 was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. “Take Jacomo for a lover, Lucia. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly.
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