How do you know it was a mind made that fire mist? Why couldn't it have been a—a— Christ, what could it have been?" Douglas paused with lips agape with horror as he gazed on the evil of the universe.
Fowler motioned the young rider to a seat at the table. "God bless our food and give us understanding," he said. Then he served Doug and sat staring thoughtfully at his own coffee-cup. "Were you ever in love?" he finally asked Douglas.
"Yes."
"Did she love you?"
"Not that I can find out!"
"Does she know that you love her?" pursued the minister.
"Yes, I told her so."
"But," said Mr. Fowler, "love isn't something you can put your teeth in. How can she believe you?"
"Because, I'm something she can put her teeth in! Believe me, Mr. Fowler, if God once convinced me He was real, I'd believe anything He told me. Just give me facts. That's all I want."
"The universe is a fact."
"Yes, but the universe being a fact doesn't prove there's any hereafter. Hang it, Mr. Fowler, can't you preachers get it through your heads that what people want you to prove to them is that there is a hereafter? That's all there is to your job. Prove that and you can lead us round by the nose. But if you can't show us that the soul doesn't die, there is no meaning in anything, and we might as well be like we are in Lost Chief."
"What's the matter with Lost Chief?" Mr. Fowler's smile was grim.
"Peter Knight says it's that we have no ethics. Inez
