"What was immoral then? The flower? The dust-heap? The girl's body? The dance? Ugly or beautiful, perhaps, but immoral? What do you mean?"
"Well, it appealed to the worst passions in everyone, to the animal in us, in—in me."
"It appealed to you sensually no doubt. Your mind, informed by your senses, appreciated the animal grace and beauty. Why not? Are animals immoral?"
"That was a girl though, a human being, a—a——"
"And isn't a girl an animal? Are you and I not animals?"
"We've souls anyway."
"Are you so sure animals haven't souls? How do you know? What is a soul, Paul?"
"A soul?" queried Paul. "Well..." (He stumbled desperately.) "The immortal part of us, the home of the spirit, a bit of God."
"God?"
Her tone instantly arrested him. There, in the night, picking their way down the road-to-be over the sand of the desert, the blare of the music behind them in the distance, he was arrested again. He was quick enough to see it with the swiftness of thought. God! Everything came back to God. And where was God? And if there was no God, where was morality?