“Because old motives don’t work here. Envy, greed, theft, robbery, murder, or any sort of destruction, are unknown. They can’t happen. Nothing alters matter here but mind, and I can’t will your body to come to pieces so long as you want it to keep together. You can’t destroy it yourself as you can other things you make, because your need of it is greater than your need of other things. “We can’t thieve or rob for the same reason. Things that belong to us belong to our state of mind and can’t be torn away from it, so that we couldn’t remove anything from another person’s state into our own. And if we could we shouldn’t want to, because each of us can always have everything he wants. If I like your house or your landscape better than my own, I can make one for myself just like it. But we don’t do this, because we’re proud of our individualities here, and would rather have things different than the same— By the way, as you haven’t got a house yet, let alone a landscape, you’d better share ours.” “That’s very good of you,” Mr. Spalding said. He was thinking of Oxford. Oxford. Quiet rooms in Balliol. He seemed to hesitate. “If you’re still sitting on that old grievance of yours, I tell you, once for all, Spalding, I’m not going to express any regret. I’m _not_ sorry, I’m glad I took Elizabeth away from you. I made her more happy than unhappy even on earth. And please notice it’s I who got her into heaven, not you. If she’d stayed with you and hated you, as she would have done, she couldn’t have got in.” “I wasn’t thinking of that,” said Mr. Spalding. “I was only wondering where I could put my landscape.” “How do you mean—‘put’ it?” “Place it—so as not to interfere with other people’s landscapes.” “But how on earth could you interfere? You ‘place’ it, as you call it, in your own space and in your own time.” His own space, his own time—Mr. Spalding got more and more excited. “But—how?” “Oh, I can’t tell you how. It simply happens.” “But I want to understand it. I—I _must_ understand.” “You shouldn’t put him off like that, Paul,” Elizabeth said. “He always did want to understand things.” “But when I don’t understand them myself—” “You’d better take him to Kant, or Hegel.” “I should prefer Kant,” said Mr. Spalding. “Well, Kant then. You’ll have to get into his state first.” “How do I do that?” “It’s very simple. You just think him up and ask him if you can come in.” Elizabeth explained. “Like ringing somebody up, you know, and asking if you can come and call.” “Supposing he won’t let me.” “Trust him to say so. Of course, we mayn’t get through. He may have _thought off_.” “You can think off, can you?” “Yes, that’s how you protect yourself. Otherwise life here would be unbearable. Just keep quiet for a second, will you?” There was an intense silence. Presently Jeffreson said: “Now you’re through.”