Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. " Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. "Lean on me," said Jack. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. “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. "You!" cried Jack, scornfully. She is English, and apparently in some distress. I'm going to be frank; we must have a clear understanding. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially.
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