“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. ‘No, but I seen the light, sir. Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised. She despises me, I suppose. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. The Becks as a 187 family didn’t talk or ruminate over Mike’s or Lucy’s past much.
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