self-evident truth. ``I mean--privacy,'' she said. ``For
instance, if you were in love, you'd not want everybody to know
about it?''

``Yes, indeed,'' declared Selma. ``I'd be tremendously proud of
it. It must be wonderful to be in love.''

In one of those curious twists of feminine nature, Miss Hastings
suddenly felt the glow of a strong, unreserved liking for this
strange, candid girl.

Selma went on: ``But I'm afraid I never shall be. I get no time
to think about myself. From rising till bed time my work pushes
at me.'' She glanced uneasily at her desk, apologetically at
Miss Hastings. ``I ought to be writing this minute. The strike
is occupying Victor, and I'm helping out with his work.''

``I'm interrupting,'' said Jane. ``I'll go.'' She put out her
hand with her best, her sweetest smile. ``We're going to be
friends--aren't we?''

Selma clasped her hand heartily and said: ``We ARE friends. I
like everybody. There's always something to like in
everyone--and the bad part isn't their fault. But it isn't often
that I like anyone so much as I do you. You are so direct and
honest--quite different from the other women of your class that
I've met.''

Jane felt unaccountably grateful and humble. ``I'm afraid you're
too generous. I guess you're not a very good judge of people,''