"Damn it all, there are your children to think of.
They've never done you any harm. They didn't ask to be
brought into the world. If you chuck everything like this,
they'll be thrown on the streets.
"They've had a good many years of comfort. It's much more
than the majority of children have. Besides, somebody will
look after them. When it comes to the point, the MacAndrews
will pay for their schooling."
"But aren't you fond of them? They're such awfully nice kids.
Do you mean to say you don't want to have anything more to do
with them?"
"I liked them all right when they were kids, but now they're
growing up I haven't got any particular feeling for them."
"It's just inhuman."
"I dare say."
"You don't seem in the least ashamed."
"I'm not."
I tried another tack.
"Everyone will think you a perfect swine."
"Let them."
"Won't it mean anything to you to know that people loathe and
despise you?"
"No."
His brief answer was so scornful that it made my question,
natural though it was, seem absurd. I reflected for a minute
or two.
"I wonder if one can live quite comfortably when one's
conscious of the disapproval of one's fellows? Are you sure
it won't begin to worry you? Everyone has some sort of a
conscience, and sooner or later it will find you out.
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