I was not even sure whether it was loaded. “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 had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. For all you might know, I might have someone watching you. But there was an abiding serpent in this Eden. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 00:37:03