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Obediently
,
but
unsmiling
and
(
wholly
insensible
of
the
honour
done
to
her
)
without
elation
,
Lenina
walked
after
him
,
out
of
the
room
.
The
other
guests
followed
at
a
respectful
interval
.
The
last
of
them
slammed
the
door
.
Bernard
was
all
alone
.
Punctured
,
utterly
deflated
,
he
dropped
into
a
chair
and
,
covering
his
face
with
his
hands
,
began
to
weep
.
A
few
minutes
later
,
however
,
he
thought
better
of
it
and
took
four
tablets
of
soma
.
Upstairs
in
his
room
the
Savage
was
reading
Romeo
and
Juliet
.
Lenina
and
the
Arch
-
Community
-
Songster
stepped
out
on
to
the
roof
of
Lambeth
Palace
.
"
Hurry
up
,
my
young
friend
–
I
mean
,
Lenina
,
"
called
the
Arch
-
Songster
impatiently
from
the
lift
gates
.
Lenina
,
who
had
lingered
for
a
moment
to
look
at
the
moon
,
dropped
her
eyes
and
came
hurrying
across
the
roof
to
rejoin
him
.
"
A
New
Theory
of
Biology
"
was
the
title
of
the
paper
which
Mustapha
Mond
had
just
finished
reading
.
He
sat
for
some
time
,
meditatively
frowning
,
then
picked
up
his
pen
and
wrote
across
the
title
-
page
:
"
The
author
’
s
mathematical
treatment
of
the
conception
of
purpose
is
novel
and
highly
ingenious
,
but
heretical
and
,
so
far
as
the
present
social
order
is
concerned
,
dangerous
and
potentially
subversive
.
Not
to
be
published
.
"
He
underlined
the
words
.
"
The
author
will
be
kept
under
supervision
.
His
transference
to
the
Marine
Biological
Station
of
St
.
Helena
may
become
necessary
.
"
A
pity
,
he
thought
,
as
he
signed
his
name
.
It
was
a
masterly
piece
of
work
.
But
once
you
began
admitting
explanations
in
terms
of
purpose
–
well
,
you
didn
’
t
know
what
the
result
might
be
.
It
was
the
sort
of
idea
that
might
easily
decondition
the
more
unsettled
minds
among
the
higher
castes
–
make
them
lose
their
faith
in
happiness
as
the
Sovereign
Good
and
take
to
believing
,
instead
,
that
the
goal
was
somewhere
beyond
,
somewhere
outside
the
present
human
sphere
,
that
the
purpose
of
life
was
not
the
maintenance
of
well
-
being
,
but
some
intensification
and
refining
of
consciousness
,
some
enlargement
of
knowledge
.
Which
was
,
the
Controller
reflected
,
quite
possibly
true
.
But
not
,
in
the
present
circumstance
,
admissible
.
He
picked
up
his
pen
again
,
and
under
the
words
"
Not
to
be
published
"
drew
a
second
line
,
thicker
and
blacker
than
the
first
;
then
sighed
,
"
What
fun
it
would
be
,
"
he
thought
,
"
if
one
didn
’
t
have
to
think
about
happiness
!
"
With
closed
eyes
,
his
face
shining
with
rapture
,
John
was
softly
declaiming
to
vacancy
:
"
Oh
!
she
doth
teach
the
torches
to
burn
bright
.
It
seems
she
hangs
upon
the
cheek
of
night
,
Like
a
rich
jewel
in
an
Ethiop
’
s
ear
;
