“As a physician, and I presume as a scientist, you ought scarcely to ask,” replied Santoris, with a slight smile.  “For you surely know there is no single thing in the Universe.  The very microbes of disease or health go in pairs.  Light and darkness,—­the up and the down,—­the right and the left,—­the storm and the calm,—­the male and the female,—­all things are dual; and the sorrows of humanity are for the most part the result of ill-assorted numbers,—­figures brought together that will not count up properly—­wrong halves of the puzzle that will never fit into place.  The mischief runs through all civilization,—­wrong halves of races brought together which do not and never can assimilate,—­and in an individual personal sense wrong halves of spirit and matter are often forced together which are bound by law to separate in time with some attendant disaster.  The error is caused by the obstinate miscomprehension of man himself as to the nature and extent of his own powers and faculties.  He forgets that he is not ‘as the beasts that perish,’ but that he has the breath of God in him,—­that he holds within himself the seed of immortality which is perpetually re-creative.  He is bound by all the laws of the Universe to give that immortal life its dual entity and attendant power, without which he cannot attain his highest ends.  It may take him thousands of years—­cycles of time,—­but it has to be done.  Materially speaking, he may perhaps consider that he has secured his dual entity by a pleasing or fortunate marriage—­but if he is not spiritually mated, his marriage is useless,—­ay! worse than useless, as it only interposes fresh obstacles between himself and his intended progress.”

“Marriage can hardly be called a useless institution,” said Dr. Brayle, with an uplifting of his sinister brows; “It helps to populate the world.”

“It does,” answered Santoris, calmly—­“But if the pairs that are joined in marriage have no spiritual bond between them and nothing beyond the attraction of the mere body—­they people the world with more or less incapable, unthinking and foolish creatures like themselves.  And supposing these to be born in tens of millions, like ants or flies, they will not carry on the real purpose of man’s existence to anything more than that stoppage and recoil which is called Death, but which in reality is only a turning back of the wheels of time when the right road has been lost and it becomes imperative to begin the journey all over again.”

We sat silent; no one had any comment to offer.

“We are arriving at that same old turning-point once more,” he continued—­“The Western civilisation of two thousand years, assisted (and sometimes impeded) by the teachings of Christianity, is nearing its end.  Out of the vast wreckage of nations, now imminent, only a few individuals can be saved,—­and the storm is so close at hand that one can almost hear the mutterings of the thunder!  But why should I or you or anyone else think about it?  We have our own concerns to attend to—­and we attend to these so well that we forget all the most vital necessities that should make them of any importance!  However—­in this day—­nothing matters!  Shall I go on with my own story, or have you heard enough?”