And then he remembered a possible sequel to the search for beauty.
"Besides," he added, in a formal whisper, "there's the children."
III
Along the path that led from Bapchurch to Great Wymering there walked two persons, slowly, and with an air of having talked themselves into embarrassed silence. Their steps were gradually bringing them to the stile upon which Arthur and Rose sat.
"That last remark of yours cut me to the quick," said the Doctor, at last.
"I meant it to," said Lilian, firmly. "I want you to be cut to the quick. It's our only chance."
"Of what?" enquired the Doctor, conscious of masculine stupidity.
"Of loving somehow. Oh, don't you understand? I want to care for you, but you're making it impossible. You will jest about the things sacred to me. Your flippant tongue destroys everything. It's as I said just now. I like my friends to be humorous; but my lover must be serious."
"But I can't help it," pleaded the Doctor. "Take away my humour and I'm frightened at what's left of myself. There's nothing but an appalling chaos."
"Because you are afraid of life," said Lilian. "Men have laughed their way through the ages; women have wept and lived. I can't share your world of assumptions and rule of thumb laws. To me love is a chaos, a dear confusion—a divine muddle. It's creation itself, an indefinite proceeding beginning with God."