"It has not been easy. But—it seems to me the things that are worth having are never easy to get."
Fairchilds looked at her keenly.
"'The things that are worth having'? What do you count as such things?"
"Knowledge and truth; and personal freedom to be true to one's self."
He concealed the shock of surprise he felt at her words. "What have we here?" he wondered, his pulse quickening as he looked into the shining upraised eyes of the girl and saw the tumultuous heaving of her bosom. He had been right after all, then, in feeling that she was different from the rest of them! He could see that it was under the stress of unusual emotion that she gave expression to thoughts which of necessity she must seldom or never utter to those about her.
"'Personal freedom to be true to one's self'?" he repeated. "What would it mean to you if you had it?"
"Life!" she answered. "I am only a dead machine, except when I am living out my true self."
He deliberately placed his hand on hers as it lay on the table. "You make me want to clasp hands with you. Do you realize what a big truth you have gotten hold of—and all that it involves?"
"I only know what it means to me."
"You are not free to be yourself?"