“But even so,” he replied, “it remains to be considered whether my theory is not more reasonable than my practice.”

“Perhaps,” I replied; “but that, I admit, is not the question that really interests me.  What I want to get at is the belief which underlies the whole life of people like ourselves, and of which, it seems, we cannot practically divest ourselves.  And such a belief, I think, is this which we have been discussing as to the validity of our opinions about Good.”

“I see,” he said; “in fact you are concerning yourself not with philosophy but with psychology.”

“If you like; it matters little what you call it.  Only, whatever it be, you will do me a service if for the moment you will place yourself at my standpoint, and see with me how things look from there.”

“Very well,” he said, “I have no objection, and so far, on the whole, I do agree with you; though I am bound to point out that you might easily find an opponent less complaisant.  Your argument is very much one ad hominem.”

“It is,” I said, “and that, I confess, is the only kind of argument in which I much believe in these matters.  I am content, for the present, if you and the others here go along with me.”

“I do,” said Parry, “but you seem to me to be only stating, in an unnecessarily elaborate way, what after all is a mere matter of common sense.”

“Perhaps it is,” I replied, “though I have always thought myself rather deficient in that kind of sense.  But what does Leslie say?”

“Oh,” he said, “I can’t think how you can be content with anything so lame and impotent!  Some method there must be, absolute and a priori, by which we may prove for certain that Good is, and discover, as well, what things are good.”

“Well,” I said, “if there be such a method, you, if anyone, should find it; and I wish you from my heart good luck in the quest.  It is only in default of anything better that I fall back on this—­I dare not call it method; this appeal to opinion and belief.”

“And even so,” said Ellis, “it is little enough that you have shown, or rather, that I have chosen to admit.  For even if it were granted that individuals, in order to choose, must believe in Good, it doesn’t follow that they believe in anything except each a Good for himself.  So that, even on your own hypothesis, all we could say would be that there are a number of different and perhaps incompatible Goods, each good for some particular individual, but none necessarily good for all.  I, at least, admit no more than that.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, “for I am getting lost again.”

“I mean,” he replied, “something that I should have thought was familiar enough.  Granted that there really is a Good which each individual ought to choose, and does choose, if you like, as far as he can see it; or granted, at least, that he is bound to believe this, under penalty of reducing his life to moral chaos; still, I see no reason to suppose that the thing which one individual ought to choose is identical, or even compatible, with that which another ought to choose.  There may be a whole series of distinct and mutually exclusive moral worlds.  In other words, even though I may admit a Good for each, I am not prepared to admit a Good for all.”