"I think so," said Lewis.

"Well, if you've followed me, you begin to realize why a superfluity of
women threatens conventional life. There are an awful lot of women in
this town, Lew."

Leighton rose to his feet and started walking up and down, his hands
clasped behind him, his head dropped.

"I haven't been feeding you on all these generalities just to kill time.
A generality would be worth nothing if it weren't for its exceptions.
Women are remarkable for the number of their exceptions. You are
crossing a threshold into a peculiarly lax section and age of woman. I
want you to believe and to remember that the world still breeds noble
and innocent women."

Leighton stopped, threw up his head, and fixed Lewis with his eyes.

"Do you know what innocence is? Ask the average clergyman to describe
innocence to you, and when he gets through, think a bit, take off the
tinsel words with which he has decked out his graven image, and you'll
find what? Ignorance enshrined. Every clergy the world has seen has
enshrined ignorance, and ignorance has no single virtue that a sound
turnip does not share."

Leighton stopped and faced his son.

"Now, my boy," he said, "here comes the end of the sermon. Beware of the
second-best in women. Many a man trades his soul not for the whole
world, but for a bed-fellow." He paused. "I believe," he continued,