mind and tried a different beginning.

"I think that every one must do their thinking--his
thinking--for--oneself," she said awkwardly.

"You mean you can't trust--?"

"It isn't trusting. But one knows best for oneself when one is hungry."

"And you find yourself hungry?"

"I want to find out for myself what all this trouble about votes and
things means."

"And we starve you--intellectually?"

"You know I don't think that. But you are busy...."

"Aren't you being perhaps a little impatient, Eleanor? After all--you
are barely eighteen.... We have given you all sorts of liberties."

Her silence admitted it. "But still," she said after a long pause,
"there are other girls, younger than I am, in these things. They talk
about--oh, all sorts of things. Freely...."

"You've been awfully good to me," she said irrelevantly. "And of course
this meeting was all pure accident."

Father and daughter remained silent for awhile, seeking a better grip.