tic before.'

Ambrose returned with more whisky and helped the two men in a liberal
manner. He abused the teetotal sect with ferocity, as he handed the
seltzer, and pouring out a glass of water for himself, was about to
resume his monologue, when Cotgrave broke in--

'I can't stand it, you know,' he said, 'your paradoxes are too
monstrous. A man may be a great sinner and yet never do anything sinful!
Come!'

'You're quite wrong,' said Ambrose. 'I never make paradoxes; I wish I
could. I merely said that a man may have an exquisite taste in Romanee
Conti, and yet never have even smelt four ale. That's all, and it's more
like a truism than a paradox, isn't it? Your surprise at my remark is
due to the fact that you haven't realized what sin is. Oh, yes, there is
a sort of connexion between Sin with the capital letter, and actions
which are commonly called sinful: with murder, theft, adultery, and so
forth. Much the same connexion that there is between the A, B, C and
fine literature. But I believe that the misconception--it is all but
universal--arises in great measure from our looking at the matter
through social spectacles. We think that a man who does evil to _us_ and
to his neighbours must be very evil. So he is, from a social standpoint;
but can't you realize that Evil in its essence is a lonely thing, a
passion of the solitary, individual soul? Really, the average murderer,
_qua_ murderer, is not by any means a sinner in the true sense of the
word. He is simply a wild beast that we have to get rid of to save our
own necks from his knife. I should class him rather with tigers than
with sinners.'

'It seems a little strange.'

'I think not. The murderer murders not from positive qualities, but from
negative ones; he lacks something which non-murderers possess. Evil, of
course, is wholly positive--only it is on the wrong side. You may
believe me that sin in its proper sense is very rare; it is probable
that there have been far fewer sinners than saints. Yes, your standpoint
is all very well for practical, social purposes; we are naturally
inclined to think that a person who is very disagreeable to us must be a
very great sinner! It is very disagreeable to have one's pocket picked,
and we pronounce the thief to be a very great sinner. In truth, he is
merely an undeveloped man. He cannot be a saint, of course; but he may
be, and often is, an infinitely better creature than thousands who have
never broken a single com