Philip [pulling himself together]: No, infant. But it is the one house in Battersea whose inmates are absolutely convinced of their immortality.
D. V. [mystified]: And yet you welcomed me just now.
Philip: Of course we did, because our environment is momentarily unpleasant. To our minds you represent a shaking of the dice-box, a cutting of the pack. But we know that you alone are mortal, evanescent—what shall I say? Why, man, you are as transitory as the measles!
D. V.: But now you will have to endure your environment.
Philip: I doubt it. I think it unlikely that the laws that govern this suburb will be overthrown to save your face. If I lie down in front of a steamroller, gravity will change my environment. Are you stronger than gravity? It has nailed your feet to this floor!
D. V.: You would have me cut a sorry figure in the world.
Philip: You must not make me alone responsible. Christianty grants you power over the worthless sediment of our entities. The ignorant savage, burying his parents with a box of sardines by their side, denies you even that. It is possible to doubt your existence; it is impossible to find you important. And the more I consider the circum-
[ 13 ]
