McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. “I wonder would you mind seeing who it is. I step on my neighbour's feet, return and apologize because my acquired conscience orders me to do so; whereas you might pass on without caring if your neighbour hopped about on one foot. She advanced, stabbing at him. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. She was pensive and thoughtful. He’s dead. “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. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. She gave her lips to his without resistance.
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