Reverend John Innes: Charles. Charles, my old friend, there you are. May I join you? Charles Darwin: Yes. Yes, of course. Reverend John Innes: Mrs. Darwin has told me about the book you're writing. Charles Darwin: Oh, no, no, not anymore, thank goodness. Reverend John Innes: You mean you finished it? Charles Darwin: It's been finished for me, actually. A Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace has arrived independently at exactly the same opinion. Expressed in a... in a mere twenty pages. Now there's brevity for you. I had covered two-hundred-fifty so far and have come to a dead end, so whilst having wasted twenty years on the project, I have at least rid of it. Reverend John Innes: Well... Well, the Lord moves in mysterious ways. Charles Darwin: Hmmm, yes, he does, doesn't he? You know, I was remarking only the other day, how he has endowed us in all of his blessed generosity with not one but nine-hundred species of intestinal worm, each with its own unique method of infiltrated the mucosa and burrowing through to the bloodstream. And on the love that he shows for butterflies by inventing a wasp that lays its eggs inside the living flesh of caterpillars. Reverend John Innes: I have said on many previous occasions, it is not for us to speculate at His reasons. Charles Darwin: Oh, no, we can leave that to Mr. Wallace! Shall I advise him to stay abroad, do you think? With his opinions if he shows his face around here, he may be required to kneel on rock salt!