“This is my only home,” she told him, quite simply. “I can live here only by doing what is demanded of me.”
“But when those demands are absurd?”
“That doesn’t seem to have made much difference.”
“But you’re—you’re a woman now, and you have your human rights.”
“That’s easy to say,” she told him. “But my world’s been very different from yours.”
“Then we’ve got to bring them closer together,” he said, stirred by the wistfulness of her face.
“Bring what together?” she asked, apparently not following him.
“Your world and mine!” he said, quite grimly.
He took possession of her hand again. But she moved her head slowly from side to side. It seemed a protest against the impossible.
“It’s got to be done!” he proclaimed. That cry, however, seemed to fall short of her attention.