But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. “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. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. ‘I have told you that I am entirely English. ‘Move, you. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown.
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