“We are not put into the world to exercise our wits,”—muttered Shelton.
“Our wanton wills,” the parson said severely.
“That, sir, may have been all right for the last generation, the country is more crowded now. I can't see why we should n't decide it for ourselves.”
“Such a view of morality,” said the parson, looking down at Crocker with a ghostly smile, “to me is unintelligible.”
Cracker's whistling grew in tone and in variety.
“What I hate,” said Shelton, “is the way we men decide what women are to bear, and then call them immoral, decadent, or what you will, if they don't fall in with our views.”
“Mr. Shelton,” said the parson, “I think we may safely leave it in the hands of God.”
Shelton was silent.
“The questions of morality,” said the parson promptly, “have always lain through God in the hands of men, not women. We are the reasonable sex.”
Shelton stubbornly replied