"Oh. if you do that sort of thing you are a romancist," interposed
Dr. Dean emphatically. "Nature neither idealizes nor transfigures
itself; it is simply Nature and no more. Matter uncontrolled by
Spirit is anything but ideal."

"Precisely," answered Gervase quickly and with some warmth; "but
my spirit idealizes it,--my imagination sees beyond it,--my soul
grasps it."

"Oh, you have a soul?" exclaimed Dr. Dean, beginning to laugh
again. "Now, how did you find that out?"

Gervase looked at him in a sudden surprise.

"Every man has an inward self, naturally," he said. "We call it
'soul' as a figure of speech; it is really temperament merely."

"Oh, it is merely temperament? Then you don't think it is likely
to outlive you, this soul--to take new phases upon itself and go
on existing, an immortal being, when your body is in a far worse
condition (because less carefully preserved) than an Egyptian
mummy?"

"Certainly not!" and Gervase flung away the end of his finished
cigarette. "The immortality of the soul is quite an exploded
theory. It was always a ridiculous one. We have quite enough to
vex us in our present life, and why men ever set about inventing
another is more than I am able to understand. It was a most
foolish and barbaric superstition."