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the red notebook； he wondered what sort of a figure he was cutting now。
But the sight of Anne and Gombauld swimming pastAnne with her eyes
almost shut and sleeping； as it were； on the sustaining wings of movement
and musicdissipated these preoccupations。 Male and female created He
them。。。There they were； Anne and Gombauld； and a hundred couples
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moreall stepping harmoniously together to the old tune of Male and
Female created He them。 But Denis sat apart； he alone lacked his
complementary opposite。 They were all coupled but he； all but he。。。
Somebody touched him on the shoulder and he looked up。 It was
Henry Wimbush。
〃I never showed you our oaken drainpipes；〃 he said。 〃Some of the
ones we dug up are lying quite close to here。 Would you like to come
and see them？〃
Denis got up； and they walked off together into the darkness。 The
music grew fainter behind them。 Some of the higher notes faded out
altogether。 Jenny's drumming and the steady sawing of the bass throbbed
on； tuneless and meaningless in their ears。 Henry Wimbush halted。
〃Here we are；〃 he said； and； taking an electric torch out of his pocket；
he cast a dim beam over two or three blackened sections of tree trunk；
scooped out into the semblance of pipes； which were lying forlornly in a
little depression in the ground。
〃Very interesting；〃 said Denis； with a rather tepid enthusiasm。
They sat down on the grass。 A faint white glare； rising from behind a
belt of trees； indicated the position of the dancing… floor。 The music was
nothing but a muffled rhythmic pulse。
〃I shall be glad；〃 said Henry Wimbush； 〃when this function comes at
last to an end。〃
〃I can believe it。〃
〃I do not know how it is；〃 Mr。 Wimbush continued； 〃but the spectacle
of numbers of my fellow…creatures in a state of agitation moves in me a
certain weariness； rather than any gaiety or excitement。 The fact is； they
don't very much interest me。 They're aren't in my line。 You follow me？
I could never take much interest； for example； in a collection of postage
stamps。 Primitives or seventeenth…century booksyes。 They are my line。
But stamps； no。 I don't know anything about them； they're not my line。
They don't interest me； they give me no emotion。 It's rather the same
with people； I'm afraid。 I'm more at home with these pipes。〃 He jerked
his head sideways towards the hollowed logs。 〃The trouble with the
people and events of the present is that you never know anything about
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them。 What do I know of contemporary politics？ Nothing。 What do I
know of the people I see round about me？ Nothing。 What they think of
me or of anything else in the world； what they will do in five minutes' time；
are things I can't guess at。 For all I know； you may suddenly jump up
and try to murder me in a moment's time。〃
〃Come； come；〃 said Denis。
〃True；〃 Mr。 Wimbush continued； 〃the little I know about your past is
certainly reassuring。 But I know nothing of your present； and neither you
nor I know anything of your future。 It's appalling； in living people； one
is dealing with unknown and unknowable quantities。 One can only hope
to find out anything about them by a long series of the most disagreeable
and boring human contacts； involving a terrible expense of time。 It's the
same with current events； how can I find out anything about them except
by devoting years to the most exhausting first…hand study； involving once
more an endless number of the most unpleasant contacts？ No； give me
the past。 It doesn't change； it's all there in black and white； and you can
get to know about it comfortably and decorously and； above all； privately…
…by reading。 By reading I know a great deal of Caesar Borgia； of St。
Francis； of Dr。 Johnson； a few weeks have made me thoroughly
acquainted with these interesting characters； and I have been spared the
tedious and revolting process of getting to know them by personal contact；
which I should have to do if they were living now。 How gay and
delightful life would be if one could get rid of all the human contacts！
Perhaps； in the future； when machines have attained to a state of
perfectionfor I confess that I am； like Godwin and Shelley； a believer in
perfectibility； the perfectibility of machinerythen； perhaps； it will be
possible for those who； like myself； desire it； to live in a dignified
seclusion； surrounded by the delicate attentions of silent and graceful
machines； and entirely secure from any human intrusion。 It is a beautiful
thought。〃
〃Beautiful；〃 Denis agreed。 〃But what about the desirable human
contacts； like love and friendship？〃
The black silhouette against the darkness shook its head。 〃The
pleasures even of these contacts are much exaggerated；〃 said the polite
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level voice。 〃It seems to me doubtful whether they are equal to the
pleasures of private reading and contemplation。 Human contacts have been
so highly valued in the past only because reading was not a common
accomplishment and because books were scarce and difficult to reproduce。
The world； you must remember； is only just becoming literate。 As
reading becomes more and more habitual and widespread； an ever…
increasing number of people will discover that books will give them all the
pleasures of social life and none of its intolerable tedium。 At present
people in search of pleasure naturally tend to congregate in large herds and
to make a noise； in future their natural tendency will be to seek solitude
and quiet。 The proper study of mankind is books。〃
〃I sometimes think that it may be；〃 said Denis； he was wondering if
Anne and Gombauld were st