For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. She took to listening through closed doors. “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. But I may yet live to thwart them. Better to remain silent. "Put it under my pillow," he said. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. ’ ‘You may not get the chance.
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