"That is good. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. “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. " And springing backwards, he darted suddenly through the door. But then Lady Palsworthy had never seen Ann Veronica running like the wind at hockey. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. Ann Veronica paused before she answered.
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