Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. “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. Not content with this exhibition of her prowess, the Amazon lifted him up as easily as if he had been an infant, and placed him upon her shoulders, to the infinite delight of the company, and the increased distress of his mother. I get along with my Mom sometimes, Lucy.
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