“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.”