Your servant, Mr. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. ”) Well, they might say that, but he knew very well that before long they would regret it. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. “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. Suddenly he understood what had happened. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. " "Won't one from me do as well?" interposed Mrs.
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