“You seem extraordinarily well informed,” he said.
“Oh, I hear people talk, and you would be surprised, I think, to know how often your name is mentioned. I have even read some of your articles. You write rather well.”
“Thank you,” said Selden. “I am always striving to improve.”
“Besides,” she added, “you are, in a way, a curiosity.”
“Oh, in many ways!” he protested.
“You are the only man I know,” she went on, leaning toward him, “who has not lost hope. Every one else sees only shipwreck and disaster, but you do not seem to see that at all.”
“No,” agreed Selden, “I don’t. I see three hundred million people freed of century-old shackles and struggling toward the light.”
She was silent a moment—then she glanced around the room.
“You can see that even here?” she asked.
“It is rather difficult,” he admitted, following her glance. “But after all, these people are of no importance—they are just wasters, slackers, headed for death. Just the same,” he added, and stopped.