“No, sir.”
“Did no one ever tell you who made the stars you now survey—the earth on which you tread?”
“No.”
“And have you never thought about it yourself?”
“Why should I? What has that to do with being cold and hungry?”
Maltravers looked incredulous. “You see that great building, with the spire rising in the starlight?”
“Yes, sir, sure.”
“What is it called?”
“Why, a church.”
“Did you never go into it?”