Mr. Leigh paused. Then, speaking very slowly and deliberately, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Tommy's, he went on: “And so, my son, that I might keep my promise to her, that you might have what she had wished you to have and what I wished you to have because she had wished it, I lost all sense of right and wrong as men understand it, I sloughed off my inhibitions and forgot the teachings of God—and I stole the money I needed! I was a thief!”
“But did you—” began Tommy, tremblingly.
“I became a thief,” interrupted Mr. Leigh, sternly, “when I decided to steal, with my eyes wide open to the consequences and my heart full of joy over being able to give you what I wished. Therefore, you are the son of a thief, even though the thief didn't physically steal the money.”
“You didn't?” cried Tommy, chokingly.
“My son, if my mind was the mind of a thief and my heart was the heart of a thief, am I not guilty of having been a thief?”
“No!” shouted Tommy, very loudly.
“Oh yes! My pocket did not hold the stolen money. But my heart held the sin—”
“Nonsense!” cried Tommy. “Your heart held only love.”
“And theft!” And Mr. Leigh nodded to himself, affirmatively.
“Very well. If you are a thief I am one, too.”