They walked to the foggy street together. Shotwell said bitterly:
“I do care for Palla. I like Ilse. All the women one encounters at Palla’s parties are gay, accomplished, clever, piquant. The men also are more or less amusing. The conversation is never dull. Everybody seems to be well bred, sincere, friendly and agreeable. But there’s something lacking. One feels it even before one is enlightened concerning the ultra-modernism of these admittedly interesting people. And I’ll tell you what 172 it is. Actually, deep in their souls, they don’t believe in themselves.
“Take Palla. She says there is no God––no divinity except in herself. And I tell you she may think she believes it, but she doesn’t.
“And her school-girl creed––Love and Service! Fine. Only there’s a prior law––self-preservation; and another––race preservation! By God, how are you going to love and serve if girls stop having babies?
“And as for this silly condemnation of the marriage ceremony, merely because some sanctified Uncle Foozle once inserted the word ‘obey’ in it––just because, under the marriage laws, tyranny and cruelty have been practised––what callow rot!
“Laws can be changed; divorce made simple and non-scandalous as it should be; all rights safeguarded for the woman; and still have something legal and recognised by one of those necessary conventions which make civilisation possible.
“But this irresponsible idea of procedure through mere inclination––this sauntering through life under no law to safeguard and govern, except the law of personal preference––that’s anarchy! That code spells demoralisation, degeneracy and disaster!... And the whole damned thing to begin again––a slow development of the human race, once more, out of the chaos of utter barbarism.”
Estridge, standing there on the sidewalk in the fog, smiled:
“You’re very eloquent, Jim. Why don’t you say all this to Palla?”
“I did. I told her, too, that the root of the whole thing was selfishness. And it is. It’s a refusal to play the game according to rule. There are only two sexes 173 and one of ’em is fashioned to bear young, and the other is fashioned to hustle for mother and kid. You can’t alter that, whether it’s fair or not. It’s the game as we found it. The rules were already provided for playing it. The legal father and mother are supposed to look out for their own legal progeny. And any alteration of this rule, with a view to irresponsible mating and turning the offspring over to the community to take care of, would create an unhuman race, unconscious of the highest form of love––the love for parents.