I was not in a comfortable frame of mind at all, though the money in my
pockets should have given me considerable cheer. I did not feel that it
was my money--any of it. I could not make it seem like anything which
belonged to me or convince myself that I had earned it. I had picked a
man’s pocket for part of it and the rest of that cash had been jammed
into my pockets, so to speak. I was not wasting a moment’s time on
questioning the morality of any of my acts. I reckoned if Pratt’s wallet
had been stuffed with twice as much I would have kept the plunder.