Well, what was it to be a thief? He met the question at last, face to face, wiping the clammy drops of sweat from his forehead. God made this money – the fresh air, too – for his children’s use. He never made the difference between poor and rich.

Well, what was it to be a thief? He met the question at last, face to face, wiping the clammy drops of sweat from his forehead. God made this money – the fresh air, too – for his children’s use. He never made the difference between poor and rich.

– Rebecca Harding Davis –

Life in the Iron Mills and Other Stories

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