"I never could argue with you, Charleton. But I know Lost Chief is a bad place for girls. Why, I'll bet there isn't a finer bunch of girls than ours in the world, for looks and nerve and smartness. Peter says he's never seen any that could touch them. And take the stories you read. Where's a heroine like Judith?"
There was something so simple and so earnest in Doug's manner and voice that the red died out of Charleton's face and he said, "I'm with you on that point, Douglas."
"Peter told me once," Douglas went on, "that the Greek race was the finest in the world in their minds and their looks and in every way, until the Greek women got promiscuous. That as soon as that happened the race began to decay. And he said that there isn't a nation in the world any stronger than the virtue of its women."
"How old are you, Douglas?" asked Mr. Fowler.
"Twenty-three. I just want to say this one thing more, then I'm through. When things like that happen to Jimmy and Little Marion, they aren't doing the right thing by Lost Chief, and"—rising with sudden restless fire—"I'd like to see Lost Chief be the kind of place my grandfather Douglas wanted it to be!"
Charleton yawned. "We'd better be moving along."
"Don't go for a minute," pleaded Mr. Fowler. "Douglas was right when he said that the whole world is hungry for a belief in immortality. And as long as the world exists it will have that hunger. And religion is God's answer to that hunger. Civilization without religion is the body without a soul. Religion brings a spiritual peace that man perpetually craves and that riches or women or horses or the hunt never brought and never can bring. At heart, there's not an unhappier man than you, Falkner. Why? Because you have no belief in immortality."
"Great God, Fowler, how can I believe in it when I can't?" shouted
Charleton.
"Exactly! How can you?" returned Fowler, deliberately. "No foul-minded man ever yet had an ear for the word of the living God."
Charleton jumped to his feet. "What do you mean, you bastard cleric, you!"