"A man's reach should exceed his grasp," quoted Hilary. "We always see much more than we can do."
"I think it would be better, then, to see less and do more," remarked Mary.
Hilary looked very weak and pale. His fever was down, but he had kept his bed, unwillingly. Mary had brought him a pot of jelly and a few daffodils from her garden. He held the flowers in his hand, and looked with brooding tender pleasure at their brilliant colour. Mary asked questions about some church-business she was to do for him, and then, in the short remaining time of her visit, they talked about sin.
The conversation of the day before had remained in her mind and puzzled her. She questioned him sharply:
"What did you mean by saying that when you understood the sinner you couldn't condemn sin? Do you really feel that?"
"I often feel it," said Hilary in a low voice.
"Then it would be better for you not to understand the sinner. You said so yourself, you said you wished you didn't."
"Well, I can't help it," Hilary smiled wanly. "Because, you see, I'm a sinner myself."
"Of course you're not. You only like to think you are."