“The laws we knew have been abolished by circumstances. It now falls to us to make laws suitable to the conditions, and to enforce them if necessary.”
“There is still God’s law, and the law of decency.”
“Madam. Solomon had three hundred—or was it five hundred?—wives, and God did not apparently hold them against him. A Mohammedan preserves rigid respectability with three wives. These are matters of local custom. Just what our laws in these matters, and in others, will be is for us all to decide later for the greatest benefit of the community.
“This committee, after discussion, has decided that if we are to build a new state of things and avoid a relapse into barbarism—which is an appreciable danger—we must have certain undertakings from those who wish to join us.
“Not one of us is going to recapture the conditions we have lost. What we offer is a busy life in the best conditions we can contrive, and the happiness which will come of achievement against odds. In return we ask willingness and fruitfulness. There is no compulsion. The choice is yours. Those to whom our offer does not appeal are at perfect liberty to go elsewhere and start a separate community on such lines as they prefer.
“But I would ask you to consider very carefully whether or not you do hold a warrant from God to deprive any woman of the happiness of carrying out her natural functions.”
The discussion which followed was a rambling affair, descending frequently to points of detail and hypothesis on which there could as yet be no answers. But there was no move to cut it short. The longer it went on, the less strangeness the idea would have.
Josella and I moved over to the table where Nurse Berr had set up her paraphernalia. We took several shots in our arms and then sat down again to listen to the wrangling.
“How many of them will decide to come, do you think?” I asked her.
She glanced round.
“Nearly all of them—by the morning,” she told me.
I felt doubtful. There was a lot of objecting and questioning going on. Josella said:
“If you were a woman who was going to spend an hour or two before you went to sleep tonight considering whether you would choose babies and an organization to look after you or adherence to a principle which might quite likely mean no babies and no one to look after you, you’d not really be very doubtful, you know. And after all, most women want babies anyway—the husband’s just what Dr. Vorless might call the local means to the end.”
“That’s rather cynical of you.”
“If you really think that’s cynical, you must be a very sentimental character. I’m talking about real women, not those in the magazine-movie-make-believe world.”
“Oh,” I said.
She sat pensively awhile, and gradually acquired a frown. At last she said:
“The thing that worries me is how many will they expect? I like babies, all right, but there are limits.”
After the debate had gone on raggedly for an hour or so it was wound up. Michael asked that the names of all those willing to join in his plan should be left in his office by ten o’clock the next morning. The Colonel requested all who could drive a truck to report to him by 700 hours, and the meeting broke up.
Josella and I wandered out of doors. The evening was mild. The light on the tower was again stabbing hopefully into the sky. The moon had just risen clear of the museum roof. We found a low wall and sat on it, looking into the shadows of the Square garden and listening to the faint sound of the wind in the branches of the trees there. We smoked a cigarette each almost in silence. When I reached the end of mine I threw it away and drew a breath.
“Josella,” I said.
“M’m?” she replied, scarcely emerging from her thoughts.