“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. This I know for at the Valade estate it was talked of very much, even that they supposed me there to be the daughter of Suzanne. But, if you've a spark of love for me, don't meddle with anything in that house. . ’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Lucy's ears were singing.
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