of married life, but because I’ve been bitten it don’t follow that marriage has brought the same unhappiness to every other man who has been bold enough to take the risk.”
“Oh, of course not. Nobody claims that. But a woman must be the husband’s slave to bring conjugal happiness. De Veber, ain’t that so?”
“Don’t ask me. I’ve never been married, and doubt if I ever shall be,” laughed Maurice.
“Take my advice,” said Philpot, “and you never will be; but just the same I’d like to have your ideas on the subject.”
“You’d only laugh at them if I were to undertake to express them.”
“Indeed no. I’m a bit cynical, I own, but every man has a right to his opinion.”
“I don’t think the marriage relation has ever been properly understood.”
“And why so? I labored under the delusion that it was something which scarcely called for instruction.”
“Doctor,” said Maurice, slowly, “which was created first, the man or the woman?”
“Adam was the first man, Eve was the t’other, Cain was a wicked man, ’cause he killed his brother,” laughed the Doctor. “That’s the way the old rhyme runs.”
“In which there is more truth than you may fancy. But I put Genesis aside, for it has nothing whatever to do with the conclusion I have reasoned myself into.”
“Which is? ”
“Substantially this,” replied Maurice, lighting his cheroot by pressing it against a glowing coal. I don’t know that I shall be able to express myself, but I will try.”
“I’m all attention, my dear fellow.”
“Well then, here goes. There must have been a beginning, and in that beginning I believe that man and woman were actually one, being a complete object, a harmonious whole.”
“On what do you base such a fancy, if not upon the Adamic tradition?”
“I can hardly tell you, but it is nevertheless my belief. Woman is but the half of a perfect human creation—you cannot look at her in any other way.”
“Physically?”
“No, spiritually; or, if you like it better, mentally. In
