THE MAN. What if I do? What has that to do with your infamy and my mother's doom? TARLETON. There, you see! Doom! Thats not good sense; but it's literature. Now it happens that I'm a tremendous reader: always was. When I was your age I read books of that sort by the bushel: the Doom sort, you know. It's odd, isnt it, that you and I should be like one another in that respect? Can you account for it in any way? THE MAN. No. What are you driving at? TARLETON. Well, do you know who your father was? THE MAN. I see what you mean now. You dare set up to be my father. Thank heaven Ive not a drop of your vile blood in my veins. TARLETON. _[sitting down again with a shrug]_ Well, if you wont be civil, theres no pleasure in talking to you, is there? What do you want? Money? THE MAN. How dare you insult me? TARLETON. Well, what do you want? THE MAN. Justice. TARLETON. Youre quite sure thats all? THE MAN. It's enough for me. TARLETON. A modest sort of demand, isnt it? Nobody ever had it since the world began, fortunately for themselves; but you must have it, must you? Well, youve come to the wrong shop for it: youll get no justice here: we dont keep it. Human nature is what we stock. THE MAN. Human nature! Debauchery! gluttony! selfishness! robbery of the poor! Is that what you call human nature? TARLETON. No: thats what you call it. Come, my lad! Whats the matter with you? You dont look starved; and youve a decent suit of clothes. THE MAN. Forty-two shillings. TARLETON. They can do you a very decent suit for forty-two shillings. Have you paid for it? THE MAN. Do you take me for a thief? And do you suppose I can get credit like you? TARLETON. Then you were able to lay your hand on forty-two shillings. Judging from your conversational style, I should think you must spend at least a shilling a week on romantic literature. THE MAN. Where would I get a shilling a week to spend on books when I can hardly keep myself decent? I get books at the Free Library. TARLETON _[springing to his feet]_ What!!! THE MAN. _[recoiling before his vehemence]_ The Free Library. Theres no harm in that. TARLETON. Ingrate! I supply you with free books; and the use you make of them is to persuade yourself that it's a fine thing to shoot me. _[He throws himself doggedly back into his chair]._ I'll never give another penny to a Free Library. THE MAN. Youll never give another penny to anything. This is the end: for you and me. TARLETON. Pooh! Come, come, man! talk business. Whats wrong? Are you out of employment? THE MAN. No. This is my Saturday afternoon. Dont flatter yourself that I'm a loafer or a criminal. I'm a cashier; and I defy you to say that my cash has ever been a farthing wrong. Ive a right to call you to account because my hands are clean. TARLETON. Well, call away. What have I to account for? Had you a hard time with your mother? Why didnt she ask me for money?