awful pity of the deliberate repression of
his full ability."

"Still; the fact that the demand for expression was as stronger than the
will to repress it shows the character beneath."

"Then not to express one's individuality shows a lack of character?"
Merry inquired soberly.

"I think I sense some personal application," Huntington answered
guardedly. "I must know more before I utter further words of wisdom."

The girl looked up into his face inquiringly, and then laughed
consciously. "I am really becoming frightened by your power to
understand," she said, only half jokingly. "I do mean to make a personal
application. I want to express myself individually, but, being a woman,
I cannot find the opportunity. If I really had character I'm sure that I
should force the opportunity."

Huntington realized that in hesitating to answer her question he had
been wiser than he knew. The seriousness which appeared from time to
time on the girl's face, then, was not a passing mood, but rather the
index of warring emotions. An unguarded word at this moment might do
much injury to a nature which was striving to find itself.

"Do you know yet what form you wish your individuality to take?" he
asked cautiously.

"Not exactly," was the frank response. "What I object to, is that a girl
isn't allowed to become interested in anything that is worth while. She
is given her education and 'brought out,' after which, whether she likes
it or not, she seems to be placed in a position of waiting for some man
to come along to marry her. Why can't she be allowed to do something,
just as a boy is, until she finds out whether she wants to marry or
not?"

"That would be a fatal error!" Huntington explained with mock gravity,
hoping to lighten the serious turn the conversation had taken. "If any
such idea gained ground marriage would become the exception rather than
the rule. How many girls do you think would ever marry if they were
permitted to find any other real interest in life?"

"But I'm serious, Mr. Huntington," Merry protested, showing that she
felt hurt by his flippancy. "I couldn't bear to be a nonentity all my
days. Think of realizing one's own ambitions only by marrying a man who
could fulfil them! I could not be happy unless I contributed my share to
the real life which we jointly lived."

"You could do it," Huntington said with conviction, "but not every woman
could.--See that old man bowing to us. Suppose we go and speak with