She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. “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. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. And that confounded engagement!” “Gone!” They came upon a platform, and stood before her compartment.
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