"What is sin? You said it's weakness. Do you think I'm not weak, sometimes?"
"No, I don't think you are. You don't act weakly, and that's the only thing that counts."
"Is it? Don't you think there are sinful thoughts and feelings?"
"Of course. But if we fight against them—"
"Well, don't you think that a man who carries a sinful feeling around with him, even if he doesn't act on it, knows what a sinner is—and do you think he can be very hard on another man who just happens to act?"
Mary cast an angry glance at the pale face turned toward her. There was a look about Hilary's mouth, as though he were repressing a smile. He had a look of mischief, not merry either, but as though deliberately trying to puzzle and disturb her—and she had seen this in him before.
She arose from her chair, and gathered her shawl about her, lifting her chin, stately in her displeasure. Her grey eyes looked down with cold reproof.
"I think instead of talking that way, you'd much better go to sleep."
"Well, good-bye, then," said Hilary.