'Are you in pain?' she asked.
'No, not just now. . . . I shall be, soon. Let me speak while I can.' His voice grew firmer suddenly.
'I have asked you to come so that you may be the last thing I see; you, the fairest. I love you.'
Not one of the three women moved.
'I have not spoken before, because when I could speak we were slaves. Now you are free and I a slave. It is too late, so it is time for me to speak. For I cannot influence you.'
Farwell shut his eyes. But soon his voice rose again.
'You must never influence anybody. That is my legacy to you. You cannot teach men to stand by giving them a staff. Let the halt and the lame alone. The strong will win. You must be free. There is nothing worth while. . . .' A shiver passed over him, his voice became muffled.
'No, nothing at all . . . freedom only. . . .'
He spoke quicker. The words could not be distinguished. Now and then he groaned.
'Wait,' whispered Betty, 'it will be over in a minute.' For two minutes they waited.