“I was saying,” Leslie repeated in answer to his question, “that science has nothing to do with the Good.”

“So much the worse for the Good,” rejoined Wilson, “if indeed that be true.”

“But you, I suppose, would never admit that it is,” I interposed.  I was anxious to hear what he had to say, though at the same time I was desirous to avoid a discussion between him and Leslie, for their types of mind and habits of thought were so radically opposed that it was as idle for them to engage in debate as for two bishops of opposite colour to attempt to capture one another upon a chessboard.  He answered readily enough to my challenge.

“I think,” he said, “that there is only one method of knowledge, and that is the method we call scientific.”

“But do you think there is any knowledge of Good at all, even by that method? or that there is nothing but erroneous opinions?”

“I think,” he replied, “that there is a possibility of knowledge, but only if we abjure dialectics.  Here, as everywhere, the only safe guide is the actual concrete operation of Nature.”

“How do you mean?” asked Leslie, his voice vibrating with latent hostility.

“I mean that the real significance of what we call Good is only to be ascertained by observing the course of Nature; Good being in fact identical with the condition towards which she tends, and morality the means to attaining it.”

“But——­” Leslie was beginning, when Parry cut him short.

“Wait a moment!” he said.  “Let Wilson have a fair hearing!”

“This end and this means,” continued Wilson, “we can only ascertain by a study of the facts of animal and human evolution.  Biology and Sociology, throwing light back and forward upon one another, are rapidly superseding the pseudo-science of Ethics.”

“Oh dear!” cried Ellis, sotto-voce, “here comes the social organism!  I knew it would be upon us sooner or later.”

“And though at present, I admit,” proceeded Wilson, not hearing, or ignoring, this interruption, “we are hardly in a position to draw any certain conclusions, yet to me, at least, it seems pretty clear what kind of results we shall arrive at.”

“Yes!” cried Parry, eagerly, “and what are they?”

“Well,” replied Wilson, “I will indicate, if you like, the position I am inclined to take up, though of course it must be regarded as provisional.”

“Of course!  Pray go on!”

“Well,” he proceeded, “biology, as you know, starts with the single cell——­”

“How do you spell it?” said Ellis, with shameless frivolity, “with a C or with an S?”

“Of these cells,” continued Wilson, imperturbably, “every animal body is a compound or aggregation; the aggregation involving a progressive modification in the structure of each cell, the differentiation of groups of cells to perform special functions,—­digestive, respiratory, and the rest,—­and the subordination of each cell or group of cells to the whole.  Similarly, in sociology——­”