"Now, to begin with,"--he went on--"you should know at once that we do
not receive women here. It is against our rule and Order. We are not
prepared for them,--we do not want them. They are never more than HALF
souls!"
My heart gave an indignant bound,--but I held my peace. He looked
straight at me, while with one hand he put together a few stray papers
on his desk.
"Well, why do you not give me the obvious answer?" he queried--"Why do
you not say that if women are half souls, men are the same,--and that
the two halves must conjoin to make one? Foolish child!--you need not
burn with suppressed offence at what sounds a slighting description of
your sex--it is not meant as such. You ARE half souls,--and the chief
trouble with you is that you seldom have the sense to see it, or to
make any endeavour to form the perfect and indivisible union,--a sacred
task which is left in your hands. Nature is for ever working to bring
the right halves together,--man is for ever striving to scatter them
apart--and though it all comes right at the last, as it must, there is
no need for delay involving either months or centuries. You women were
meant to be the angels of salvation, but instead of this you are the
ruin of your own 'ideals.'"