"How old are they?"
"Twelve."
"They do not seem to be more than eight—nine at the most."
"They have been well fed," John said softly.
"How about schooling, Mr. Rush? The teaching of handicapped children is not something that can be done by a person untrained in the field."
"I have three degrees, Mr. North. When my wife became ill and I began to care for them I taught them to read braille. They picked it up very quickly, though they showed little continued interest in it. I read a number of books in the field of teaching handicapped children ..." He let it trail off.
"Your degrees were in physics, were they not, Mr. Rush?" Now the touch of malice came.
"That is correct." He sat down in one of the wooden chairs. "I quit working long before the witch hunts came. I was never indicted."
"Nevertheless your degrees are no longer bona fide. All such degrees have been stricken from the records." He looked down and John saw that his eyes no longer hid the hate. "If your wife dies I doubt that any court would allow you to keep custody of these children."
A year before—even six months and John would not have protested. Now he had to make the effort. "They are my children—such as they are—and I will fight any attempt to take them from me."