Mabel smiled pleasantly.  She had never heard it put so well.

“No, my dear, you’re quite right.  That sort of thing isn’t true.  How can he believe it?  He looked quite intelligent!”

“My dear girl, if I had told you in your cradle that the moon was green cheese, and had hammered at you ever since, every day and all day, that it was, you’d very nearly believe it by now.  Why, you know in your heart that the euthanatisers are the real priests.  Of course you do.”

Mabel sighed with satisfaction and stood up.

“Oliver, you’re a most comforting person.  I do like you!  There!  I must go to my room:  I’m all shaky still.”

Half across the room she stopped and put out a shoe.

“Why—–­” she began faintly.

There was a curious rusty-looking splash upon it; and her husband saw her turn white.  He rose abruptly.

“My dear,” he said, “don’t be foolish.”

She looked at him, smiled bravely, and went out.

* * * * *

When she was gone, he still sat on a moment where she bad left him.  Dear me! how pleased he was!  He did not like to think of what life would have been without her.  He had known her since she was twelve—­that was seven years ago-and last year they had gone together to the district official to make their contract.  She had really become very necessary to him.  Of course the world could get on without her, and he supposed that he could too; but he did not want to have to try.  He knew perfectly well, for it was his creed of human love, that there was between them a double affection, of mind as well as body; and there was absolutely nothing else:  but he loved her quick intuitions, and to hear his own thought echoed so perfectly.  It was like two flames added together to make a third taller than either:  of course one flame could burn without the other—­in fact, one would have to, one day—­but meantime the warmth and light were exhilarating.  Yes, he was delighted that she happened to be clear of the falling volor.

He gave no more thought to his exposition of the Christian creed; it was a mere commonplace to him that Catholics believed that kind of thing; it was no more blasphemous to his mind so to describe it, than it would be to laugh at a Fijian idol with mother-of-pearl eyes, and a horse-hair wig; it was simply impossible to treat it seriously.  He, too, had wondered once or twice in his life how human beings could believe such rubbish; but psychology had helped him, and he knew now well enough that suggestion will do almost anything.  And it was this hateful thing that had so long restrained the euthanasia movement with all its splendid mercy.