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‘When she lies outright, she thinks about it. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. “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. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. “I have nothing to say to you. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. "Oh, Rollo, there are so many things I don't know! But you love me, don't you?" Rollo wagged his stump violently and tried to lick her face.
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