"The days of single-handed combat against the world are over," answered
Denham. "You cripple a man by giving him too wide a field of action."
"I would not take less than the widest were I a man!" exclaimed
Gerald, proudly.
"Would you be a clergyman?"
"No. I have no talent for writing. I could not preach."
"Nay, I think you an admirable preacher," said Denham, gently, without the faintest tinge of sarcasm in either tone or look. Gerald glanced at him quickly and flushed slightly.
"I am too dogmatic myself," she said, biting her lip and turning away her head. "I should not be so hard on Mrs. Upjohn."
"You do not intend to be hard on any one."
"But to be just is to seem hard," said Gerald.
"It is a divine prerogative to know just how far to temper justice with mercy," Denham answered. "I suppose none of us can hope to attain to perfect knowledge; but if there must be error, I would for myself rather err in excess of mercy than of justice."
"In other words, between two evils you would choose the least," Gerald replied. "That is the common way of getting out of the difficulty. But it seems to me like compromising with evil. There ought to be always some third, wholly right, way out of every dilemma, if only one sought earnestly enough." She spoke more as if to herself than to him.