"But, you see, after all, your stealing is a little thing that can be made all right.

Your being a thief is so small in comparison with other things which you might have been, but which you are not, and of so little importance in comparison with what you really ARE, that I can't feel so very bad about it." "But--but--my drinking,--my condition when--" He could not go on.
"Why, you see," she answered, "I can't think of THAT man as being YOU at all.

THAT was something that the accident of your being a thief did to you,--like catching cold, and being sick, after accidentally falling in the river." After a little silence, the man spoke, slowly: "I suppose every thief, when he is caught, says the same thing; but I really never wanted to do it.

Circumstances--" he paused, biting his lip, and turning away.
"What was she like ?" asked Auntie Sue, gently.
"She ?" and his face reddened.
"Yes, I have observed that, to a man, 'circumstances' nearly always mean a woman.

To a woman, of course, it is a man." "I cannot tell you about her, now," he said.