" "Mr. "No Mohocks! No Scourers!" cried the mob. She got to the driveway and was semi-surprised to see that his car was gone. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. But, after all, it will be different. “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. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father.
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