"What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. “It is you alone, Nigel, who have saved me from being an old maid. I found the door locked as usual, but when we entered this room everything was as you see. ’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock. Ann Veronica snatched at the opportunity, and spent most of the intervening time in the Assyrian Court of the British Museum, reading and thinking over a little book upon the feminist movement the tired woman had made her buy. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. “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. “I had found her at last, and she shot me.
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