Free Crome Yellow by Aldous Huxley

‘I presume we may take for granted that an intelligent young woman of twenty-three who has lived in civilized society in the twentieth century has no prejudices.’
    â€˜Well, I confess I still have a few.’
    â€˜But not about repressions.’
    â€˜No, not many about repressions; that’s true.’
    â€˜Or, rather, about getting rid of repressions.’
    â€˜Exactly.’
    â€˜So much for our fundamental postulate,’ said Mary. Solemnity was expressed in every feature of her round young face, radiated from her large blue eyes. ‘We come next to the desirability of possessing experience. I hope we are agreed that knowledge is desirable and that ignorance is undesirable.’
    Obedient as one of those complaisant disciples from whom Socrates could get whatever answer he chose, Anne gave her assent to this proposition.
    â€˜And we are equally agreed, I hope, that marriage is what it is.’
    â€˜It is.’
    â€˜Good!’ said Mary. ‘And repressions being what they are. . .’
    â€˜Exactly.’
    â€˜There would therefore seem to be only one conclusion.’
    â€˜But I knew that,’ Anne exclaimed, ‘before you began.’
    â€˜Yes, but now it’s been proved,’ said Mary. ‘One must do things logically. The question is now . . .’
    â€˜But where does the question come in? You’ve reached your only possible conclusion – logically, which is more than I could have done. All that remains is to impart the information to someone you like – someone you like really rather a lot, someone you’re in love with, if I may express myself so baldly.’
    â€˜But that’s just where the question comes in,’ Mary exclaimed. ‘I’m not in love with anybody.’
    â€˜Then, if I were you, I should wait till you are.’
    â€˜But I can’t go on dreaming night after night that I’m falling down a well. It’s too dangerous.’
    â€˜Well, if it really is
too
dangerous, then of course you must do something about it; you must find somebody else.’
    â€˜But who?’ A thoughtful frown puckered Mary’s brow. ‘Itmust be somebody intelligent, somebody with intellectual interests that I can share. And it must be somebody with a proper respect for women, somebody who’s prepared to talk seriously about his work and his ideas and about my work and my ideas. It isn’t, as you see, at all easy to find the right person.’
    â€˜Well,’ said Anne, ‘there are three unattached and intelligent men in the house at the present time. There’s Mr Scogan, to begin with; but perhaps he’s rather too much of a genuine antique. And there are Gombauld and Denis. Shall we say that the choice is limited to the last two?’
    Mary nodded. ‘I think we had better,’ she said, and then hesitated, with a certain air of embarrassment.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜I was wondering,’ said Mary, with a gasp, ‘whether they really were unattached. I thought that perhaps you might . . . you might . . .’
    â€˜It was very nice of you to think of me, Mary darling,’ said Anne, smiling the tight cat’s smile. ‘But as far as I’m concerned, they are both entirely unattached.’
    â€˜I’m very glad of that,’ said Mary, looking relieved. ‘We are now confronted with the question: Which of the two?’
    â€˜I can give no advice. It’s a matter for your taste.’
    â€˜It’s not a matter of my taste,’ Mary pronounced, ‘but of their merits. We must weigh them and consider them carefully and dispassionately.’
    â€˜You must do the weighing yourself,’ said Anne; there was still the trace of a smile at the corners of her mouth and round the half-closed eyes. ‘I won’t run the risk of advising you wrongly.’
    â€˜Gombauld has more talent,’ Mary began, ‘but he is less civilized