“No, certainly not; women are not nearly so ridiculous, because they are more instinctive, more like the animals which we call the lower animals in our absurd self-conceit.  As I have often said, women have never invented a religion; they are untainted with that madness, and they are not moralists.  They accept the religions men invent, and sometimes they become saints, and they accept our moralities—­what can they do, poor darlings, but accept?  But they are not interested in moralities, or in religions.  How can they be?  They are the substance out of which life comes, whereas we are but the spirit, the crazy spirit—­the lunatic crying for the moon.  Spirit and substance being dependent one on the other, concessions have to be made; the substance in want of the spirit acquiesces, says, ’Very well, I will be religious and moral too.’  Then the spirit and the substance are married.  The substance has been infected—­”

“What makes you say all this, Asher?”

“Well, because I have just been thinking that perhaps my misfortunes can be traced back to myself.  Perhaps it was I who infected Evelyn.”

“You?”

“Yes, I may have brought about a natural reaction.  For years I was speaking against religion to her, trying to persuade her; whereas if I had let the matter alone it would have died of inanition, for she was not really a religious woman.”

“I see, I see,” Ulick answered thoughtfully.

“Had she met you in the beginning,” Owen continued, “she might have remained herself to the end; for you would have let her alone.  Religion provokes me...  I blaspheme; but you are indifferent, you are not interested.  You are splendid, Ulick.”

A smile crossed Ulick’s lips, and Owen wondered what the cause of the smile might be, and would have asked, only he was too interested in his own thoughts; and the words, “I wonder you trouble about people’s beliefs” turned him back upon himself, and he continued: 

“I have often wondered.  Perhaps something happens to one early in life, and the mind takes a bias.  My animosity to religion may have worn away some edge off her mind, don’t you see?  The moral idea that one lover is all right, whereas any transgression means ruin to a woman, was never invented by her.  It came from me; it is impossible she could have developed that moral idea from within—­she was infected with it.”

“You think so?” Ulick replied thoughtfully, and took another cigar.

“Yes, if she had met you,” Owen continued, returning to his idea.

“But if she had met me in the beginning you wouldn’t have known her; and you wouldn’t consent to that so that she might be saved from Monsignor?”

“I’d make many sacrifices to save her from that nightmare of a man; but the surrender of one’s past is unthinkable.  The future?  Yes.  But there is nothing to be done.  We don’t know where she is.  Her father said she would be in London at the end of the week; therefore she is in London now.”  “If she didn’t change her mind.”  “No, she never changes her mind about such things; any change of plans always annoyed her.  So she is in London, and we do not know her address.  Isn’t it strange?  And yet we are more interested in her than in any other human being.”