Remember, please, that this conversation took place, not in Bedlam, but in South Kensington. We were sitting in a commonplace loft over a garage, on ordinary chairs, with two half-emptied glasses of everyday lemonade before us. A gas-jet in an incandescent mantle hung from the ceiling, and in the neighbouring houses average people were beginning to think of their accustomed beds. They had pineal glands too, and might "get a bash over them," or fall downstairs, or collide with something, or meet with a street accident. Would they, respectable ratepayers of South Kensington, revert to that dim time before the waters were divided from the dry land, when they had rolled about like logs, slumbering and amorphous and unspecialised types, creation's first blind gropings towards the glory that at present is man? Would they develop an "A" memory and a "B"? Would these "bilaterally symmetrical animals with forward progression" resuscitate that degenerated Third Eye in the backs of their heads and do this Widdershins-Walk back to their beginnings? Rose's friend the doctor had said that nobody knew anything about these things. Man was only on the verge of this knowledge. It belonged to to-morrow and the days to come. And for the first time in my life I found myself wondering whether I did want to know so very much about those morrows after all. At last I found my voice. "Then you accept that explanation?" I said. "No," he replied. "Thank God for something! Why not?" "Oh, for various reasons. In the first place I only got it as a sort of fiction-stunt, remember. He merely said that nobody could contradict me." "And in the second place?" "In the second place, I still think yours is the better explanation--not biology at all, but simple right and wrong, good and evil. Nothing of that kind ever did happen to me in the War that I know of--I never got any whack over the head--and there's one other thing that seems to me to prove it." "What's that?" "That I do know the difference between the better and the worse, and want the better all the time." "In other words--God?" "I think God comes before a gland," he replied. * * * * *