Victoria bent over the bed once more. She could feel the eyes of the landlady probing her personality. 'Can't you do something?' she asked savagely. 'Nothing.' Farwell opened his eyes again and faintly smiled. 'And what's the good, Victoria?' Victoria threw herself on her knees by the side of the bed. 'Oh, you musn't!' she whispered. 'You . . . the world can't spare you!' 'Oh, yes . . . it can . . . you know . . . the world is like men . . . it spends everything on luxuries . . . it can't afford necessaries.' Victoria smiled and felt as if she were going to choke. The last paradox. '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. Victoria's eyes fastened on a basin by the bedside, full of reddish water. Then Farwell's face grew lighter in tone. His voice came faint as the sound of a spinet. 'There will be better times. But before then fighting . . . the coming to the top of the leaders . . . gold will be taken from the rich . . . given to the vile . . . pictures burnt . . . chaos . . . woman rise as a tyrant . . . there will be fighting . . . the coming to the top. . ..' His voice thinned down to nothing as his wandering mind repeated his prediction. Then he spoke again. 'You are a rebel . . . you will lead . . . you have understood . . . only by understanding are you saved. I asked you to come here to tell you to go on . . . earn your freedom . . . at the expense of others.' 'Why at the expense of others?' asked Betty, leaning over the bed. Farwell was hypnotising her. His eyes wandered to her face. 'Too late . . .' he said, 'you do not see . . . you are a slave . . . a woman has only one weapon . . . otherwise, a slave . . . ask . . . ask Victoria.' He closed his eyes but went on speaking. 'There is not freedom for everybody . . . capitalism means freedom for a few . . . you must have freedom, like food . . . food for the soul . . . you must capture the right to respect . . . a woman may not toil . . . make money . . .'