'But if I say it does?' Gregory hiccoughed.
'That's only due to lack of opportunities,' Spiller replied in his most decisively scientific, ex cathedra manner.
'I don't agree with you,' was all that Gregory could say, feebly. He decided not to mention his unhappiness. Spiller might not be a sympathetic listener. Coarse old devil!
'Personally,' Spiller continued, 'I've long ago ceased trying to make sense of it. I just accept these infinite emotions for what they are—very stimulating and exciting while they last—and don't attempt to rationalize or explain them. It's the only sane and scientific way of treating the facts.'
There was a silence. They had emerged into the brilliance of the Tottenham Court Road. The polished roadway reflected the arc lamps. The entrance to the cinema palaces were caverns of glaring yellow light. A pair of buses roared past.
'They're dangerous, those infinite emotions,' Spiller went on, 'very dangerous. I once came within an inch of getting married on the strength of one of them. It began on a steamer. You know what steamers are. The extraordinary aphrodisiac effects sea voyaging has on people who aren't used to it, especially women! They really ought to be studied by some competent physiologist. Of course, it may be simply the result of idleness, high feeding and constant proximity—though I doubt if you'd get the same results in similar circumstances on land. Perhaps the total change of environment, from earth to water, undermines the usual terrestrial prejudices. Perhaps the very shortness of the voyage helps—the sense that it's so soon coming to an end that rose-buds must be gathered and hay made while the sun shines. Who knows?' He shrugged his shoulders. 'But in any case, it's most extraordinary. Well, it began, as I say, on a steamer.'
Gregory listened. A few minutes since the trees of
