“They were pretty mean,” said Dacre with conviction.
“They were just like other people, only stronger, and better looking, and bigger,” said Gwen.
“Would you be inclined to think any one of them capable of any great or stupendous work?”
“Goodness no!” said Gwen, “they had a great deal too much to do with their little things; punishing mortals too, that took up half their time.”
“Well, then, who do you imagine made the world—have you ever thought on the subject?”
“This is most distressing,” whispered Mr. Waring, “he seems about to give all these rank hypotheses as facts—this is childish, unworthy of Gwen’s intellect!”
“Dear love, you are unfair, there is absolutely nothing proven on either side.”
“But the counter arguments will not be presented as facts.”
“The religious school has firm convictions and admits no hypotheses, I have heard. I confess this primitive mode rather interests me; I wonder what Gwen’s reply will be—hush, here it comes!”
“I never could think of any one person undertaking such a work,” said she, looking rather interested. “I have always thought it was done by some ceaseless force, that keeps things wound up.”