He laughed gaily and rose.
“That is just where we part company,” he said. “The theory itself is founded on collective experience.”
“But the conditions now are different.”
“That is what every age says of its own age,” he replied, “and in each case it is wrong. Behind the conditions and governing them is that great immutable force called human nature. And behind human nature is the infinitely greater force and the most immutable of all, which, by one name or another, we agree to be God!”
He stood twisting his pince-nez by the string for a moment’s silence.
“But here’s this lovely Saturday afternoon running to seed,” he said. “May I borrow a motor, my dear Helen, and go out for a run? And can’t I persuade you to come with me?”
“I wish I could, but my guests will be beginning to arrive before long.”
“Dear me, yes, I forgot. I was thinking that you and Gracie and I would be passing a quiet Sunday. Do you expect many people?”
“I think about thirty. I never really expect anybody till he arrives, for he may make some subsequent engagement.”
“And when he arrives you naturally cease to expect him, because he is already there. So you have no expectations with regard to people, and I wish you would apply the same principle with regard to cataclysms. But I think I shall go out, if I may, and return when your guests have mostly come. Then I can plunge head first into them. Seeing guests arrive one by one always rather reminds me of wading out on a flat shore to bathe.”