And the worst of it was that, though he cudgelled his brains for many hours that night, he could not think of any sins in particular that Austin had been in the habit of committing.

He was kind, he was pure, and he was unselfish.

His exaggerated abuse of people he didn't like was more than half humorous, and was rather a fault than a sin.

Yet he must be a sinner somehow, because everybody was.

Perhaps his sin consisted in his not being pious in the evangelical sense of the word.