"That was because I did not know you," explained young Denton, lamely. "I thought you might be willing to flirt a little—no one else ever refused me."
"Is it possible?"
Faith asked the question in out and out amazement. She could see by the young man's face that he was not lying.
"The other girls were always glad enough to flirt a little," he went on. "You see, they knew I had money, and was willing to spend it—you can't blame them, Miss Marvin; they were a poverty-stricken lot! It's no wonder that the prospect of a square meal and a little recreation tempted them."
"No, I do not blame them," said Faith, very decidedly; "but I do blame you, Mr. Denton; it was wicked of you to tempt them."
The young man's face fell, and he shifted his position uneasily.
"We can't all be sincere," he said, rather irritably, "and what seems right to one often seems wrong to another. I've been careless, I admit, and perhaps a little wicked, but don't condemn me utterly, Miss Marvin. Why not try to reform me?"
Faith glanced at him sharply. There was not a trace of mirth in his face. It was evident that he had asked the question in earnest.
"I wish I could," she answered, smiling a little; "but if you really wish to reform, you can do it yourself, Mr. Denton. You have only to pray, and your God will aid you."
"But I lack faith," he said, quickly. "I don't see things as you do, and, besides, 'the prayers of the wicked are an abomination unto the Lord;' you see, I know that much about the Bible, Miss Marvin!"