Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. “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. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. Lucy followed. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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