“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. She paused for a moment. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. 95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. ’ Total bullshit, if you ask me. He returned, “Lucy, you knew I didn’t live anywhere near you?” “I was aware. He'll settle it bravely.
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