Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. ” There was silence between them. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. When he returned, it was always the same. The blood will rest on your head. Remember that. “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. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those circumstances I should be long about it. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more.
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