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 Jerry took another long pull at the bottle, and felt much better. Jabez also helped himself before returning the bottle to his pocket.

"Jerry," went on Jabez, after a long silence. "The old likes to give advice to the young—not that they look to see 'em take it o' course. For, as the Bible says, they got ears but they hear not. Jes the same, even if I'm a-talkin' to deaf ears, I gotta have my say. Jerry, don't have nothin' to do with wimmin. I've had a right smart of experience with 'em, an' I kin tell yuh, an' it's the livin' truth, all wimmin is harlots."

Jerry stirred uneasily and seemed about to open his mouth.

"It's the livin' truth, Jerry, my boy." Jabez' vague blue eyes took on a prophetic look, as though he were a seer of old exhorting the heedless to look to their ways; and his deep voice fell into the rhythmic chant of the inspired man. "Don't go after none of 'em, I tell yuh. Wimmin'll deal treacherously with yuh, Jerry. Their lips drops honey an' their mouths is smoother'n oil; but in the end they're bitter as wormwood an' sharper'n a two-edged sword. The Bible says so, Jerry; but that hain't the way I found it out. Yaas, Jerry, they're all deceitful. They'll all eat an' wipe their mouths an' say they hain't done no sin. Keep yerse'f clean of 'em, my boy."

"All wimmin hain't harlots," answered Jerry slowly and with conviction.

There was something in what Jerry said and his way of saying it that brought Jabez back to the matter of fact.

"Aw, hell," he laughed, in the tone of one descended suddenly to earth, "what youst to tell a husky young buck like you not to go after the wimmin? Might as well speak to the grass an' tell it not to grow in May. Have another drink, Jerry."

They each took another long pull at the bottle and then drove for some time in silence.

"Is she dark or fair, Jerry?" asked Jabez out of the silence.

"She's dark," admitted Jerry, the mellowing influence of the whiskey beginning to overcome his boyish bashfulness and natural taciturnity. "But her skin hain't dark. On'y her