He and Professor Silenus were standing on the terrace after dinner. The half‑finished mosaics at their feet were covered with planks and sacking; the great colonnade of black glass pillars shone in the moonlight; beyond the polished aluminium balustrade the park stretched silent and illimitable.
'The most beautiful and the most free. She almost seems like the creature of a different species. Don't you feel that?
'No, said the Professor after a few moments' consideration. 'I can't say that I do. If you compare her with other women of her age you will see that the particulars in which she differs from them are infinitesimal compared with the points of similarity. A few millimetres here and a few millimetres there, such variations are inevitable in the human reproductive system; but in all her essential functions ‑ her digestion, for example ‑ she conforms to type.
'You might say that about anybody.
'Yes, I do. But it's Margot's variations that I dislike so much. They are small, but obtrusive, like the teeth of a saw. Otherwise I might marry her.
'Why do you think she would marry you?
'Because, as I said, all her essential functions are normal. Anyway, she asked me to twice. The first time I said I would think it over, and the second time I refused. I'm sure I was right. She would interrupt me terribly. Besides, she's getting old. In ten years she will be almost worn out.
Professor Silenus looked at his watch ‑ a platinum disc from Cartier, the gift of Mrs Beste‑Chetwynde. 'Quarter to ten, he said. 'I must go to bed. He threw the end of his cigar clear of the terrace in a glowing parabola. 'What do you take to make you sleep?
'I sleep quite easily, said Paul, 'except on trains.
'You're lucky. Margot takes veronal. I haven't been to sleep for over a year. That's why I go to bed early. One needs more rest if one doesn't sleep.