“My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. The garrets were said to be tenanted by coiners, and artists employed in altering watches and jewelry; the cellars to be used as a magazine for stolen goods. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. “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. “We always have things out with OUR father, poor dear!” said Hetty.
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