"Yes, that's what the bishops say. Good for people to be poor, strengthens the fibre and all that. And back they slope to their palaces. But what I want to know is, why this beastly training? If God was all-powerful, the thing could be done without it and we would all be angels at once. After all, why should people die of cancer or inherit filthy diseases?" Martin didn't see why they should. "And then there's the Atonement," Gregson continued. "There's a childish story for you. First, it seems, God made men: then He was angry because He hadn't made them good enough. Then, just to complete the muddle, He found it necessary to kill His Son to pay for the sins of the people whom He might have made perfect if He had wanted to. That's not good enough, thank you." It was just the type of sharp, bitter-phrased reasoning to complete the extinction of Martin's spark of faith. At first Gregson's violent attitude naturally drove Martin to a modified defence of religion, but Gregson carried far too many guns when it came to a battle of argument. He could make great play with his comparative religion, and Martin used to leave Gregson's study with a wealth of new phrases ringing in his ears: at last he could think of nothing but solar myths and gods of dying vegetation. It seemed to him very strange that the world should continue to pay any attention to the monstrous imposture which the combined efforts of Blatchford and Gregson had shown Christianity to be. But his discoveries did not make him unhappy: he had his secular socialism and, as religion had never formed a vital element in his life, its loss could involve no pain. VIII