“Much fog about?”
Some of the sensitive fire came back into Eve’s eyes.
“Kate, I am horribly afraid of being crushed—of becoming one of the crowd. It seems to me that one may never have time to be oneself.”
“You mean that the effort to live leaves no margin?”
“That’s it. I suppose most of us find in the end that we are the slaves of our hack work, and that our ambitions die of slow starvation. Think of it. Think of the thousands of people who had something to do or say, and were smothered by getting a living.”
“It’s the usual thing. I felt it myself. I nearly gave up; but I set my teeth and scratched. I’ve determined to fight through—to refuse to be smothered. I’ll get my independence, somehow.”
“Sometimes I feel that I must throw up all this bread and butter stuff, and stake everything on one adventure.”
“Then don’t do it. I have seen people try it. Ninety-nine out of the hundred come back broken, far worse off than they were before. They’re humble, docile things for the rest of their lives. Carry the harness without a murmur. Not a kick left, I know.”
“I have been thinking of a secretaryship. It might give me more leisure—breathing space——”
“Try it!”