faults. I don't set up for a light or a saint; I'm just what the
Prayer-book says--neither more nor less--a miserable sinner. There's only
one good thing I can safely say for myself--I am no Pharisee; that's all;
I air no religious prig, puffing myself, and trusting to forms, making
long prayers in the market-place' (Mark's quotations were paraphrastic),
'and thinking of nothing but the uppermost seats in the synagogue, and
broad borders, and the praise of men--hang them, I hate those fellows.'

So Mark, like other men we meet with, was proud of being a Publican; and
his prayer was--'I thank Thee that I am not as other men are, spiritually
proud, formalists, hypocrites, or even as this Pharisee.'

'Do you wish another game?' I asked.

'Just now,' said Wylder, emitting first a thin stream of smoke, and
watching its ascent. 'Dorcas is the belle of the county; and she likes
me, though she's odd, and don't show it the way other girls would. But a
fellow knows pretty well when a girl likes him, and you know the marriage
is a sensible sort of thing, and I'm determined, of course, to carry it
through; but, hang it, a fellow can't help thinking sometimes there are
other things besides money, and Dorcas is not my style. Rachel's more
that way; she's a _tremendious_ fine girl, by Jove! and a spirited minx,
too; and I think,' he added, with an oath, having first taken two puffs
at his cigar, 'if I had seen her first, I'd have thought twice before I'd
have got myself into this business.'

I only smiled and shook my head. I did not believe a word of it. Yet,
perhaps, I was wrong. He knew very well how to take care of his money; in
fact, compared with other young fellows, he was a bit of a screw. But he
could do a handsome and generous thing for himself. His selfishness would