The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. “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 odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. As you brew so must you drink. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. “I wrote it for you. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate.
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