Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. “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. Gina, the eleven year old, just couldn’t take it and she ran away.
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