You are in pain." He stood a moment or two gazing at her with staring eyes and parted lips, pain, grief and even rage distorting his pale face.
"It is wicked," at length he panted.

"It is just terrible wicked--a young girl like that." "Wicked?
Who?
What ?" "That--that girl--dancing like that." "Dancing?
That kind of dancing ?" cried Mandy, astonished.

"I was brought up a Methodist myself," she continued, "but that kind of dancing--why, I love it." "It is of the devil.

I am a Methodist--a preacher--but I could not preach, so I quit.

But that is of the world, the flesh, and the devil and--and I have not the courage to denounce it.