“Now, Roger, don’t be narrow-minded. Can’t you imagine quite a fine
person who mightn’t think stealing as wrong as you or I think it?”
Roger did not look irritated, but he looked determined and spoke with
an argumentative firmness:
“Evie, I’ve always regarded you as an unusually intelligent woman.
As such I’d like you to explain to me how a fine person of will and
character can steal and not think it as wrong as you or I would think
it.”
It wasn’t working out as I expected and because it wasn’t and because
Roger was giving it his full attention, I felt more irritated.
“Didn’t I tell you he’d fallen into bad company?”
“You did and I’ve taken it into consideration, but--”
“Roger, this isn’t a legal investigation. You’re not trying to break
up the beef trust or impose a fine on Standard Oil. It’s just a simple
question of right and wrong.”
“I’m glad you think it’s simple. This person with any amount of
character fell under a bad influence?”
“That’s it--he was undermined, and though he was, as I said, a fine
person, quite noble in some respects, he didn’t think stealing was so
wicked as the average respectable citizen does.”
Roger put the other foot on the fender and looked at me with increasing
concentration.
“I don’t understand at all. Let me try and get to the bottom of it.
What did he steal?”
For a moment I stared at him blankly without answering.
He went on. There was no doubt about his giving me his full attention,
it was getting fuller every moment.
“If you’ll tell me the nature of his theft and under what provocation
and circumstances it was committed maybe I’ll be able to get a better
idea of the kind of person he was. What did he steal?”
“But, Roger, this is a hypothetical case.”
“I know it is, but that doesn’t make any difference in the answer. What
was the nature of the theft--money, jewels, grafting on a large scale,
or taking an apple from the grocer’s barrel?”
I looked around the room in desperation, saw the blank left on the wall
by the Marie Antoinette mirror, and said doggedly:
“He stole a mirror.”
[Illustration: “Let me try and get at the bottom of it”]
“A mirror,” said Roger with the air of having extracted an important
bit of evidence. “Umph-- Why did he take it?”
“Roger, what’s the sense of going into all these details?”
“Evie,” with maddening obstinacy, all the more maddening because it was
so mild, “if I’m to give an answer I must know. Did he intend to sell
it?”
“Yes, he did.”
I was so angry that I felt ready to defend any one who stole anything
from anybody.
“My dear girl,” said Roger, still mild but also reproachful, “how can
you sit there and tell me that a man who steals a mirror intending to
sell it is a fine person, quite noble in some respects?”
“I can’t tell you. I won’t. I asked you a simple question about a
man--a man I just made up--and you cross-examine me as if I was being
tried for murder and you were the lawyer on the other side.”
“But, Evie, I only was trying to do what you asked.”
“Well, stop trying. Let that man and his mirror drop or I’ll lose my
temper.” I snatched up the poker and began to poke the fire. “I’ve
lost it now.” I poked furiously in illustration. “It’s too aggravating.
I did so want your opinion about it.”
“Well, then, here it is--”
I stopped poking and leaned forward, so far forward that to keep my
balance I had to put a foot on the fender.
“Has one a right to accept pecuniary aid for a person who has committed
an offense--the first--without telling the benefactor of that offense?
Is that it?”
“Yes.”
“I think one has.”
“You’re sure they needn’t tell the benefactor?”
“I wouldn’t. If you want to give a man a hand-up why rake up his past?”