” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. "Only, what you have done is out of all human calculation. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. I didn't think. Daybreak found her winding her painful way along the Harrow Road; and, in order to shorten the distance as much as possible, she took the nearest cut, and struck into the meadows on the right. “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 looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar.
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