In more parliamentary language, perhaps,
Richard. I should tell him I never took money from strangers.
RICHARD. Quite so; but that if it were ten thousand pounds, you
would take it?
CRAWSHAW. I most certainly shouldn't.
RICHARD. But if he died and left it to you, _then_ you would?
CRAWSHAW (blandly). Ah, I thought you were leading up to that.
That, of course, is entirely different.
RICHARD. Why?
CRAWSHAW. Well--ah--wouldn't _you_ take ten thousand pounds if it
were left to you by a stranger?
RICHARD. I daresay I should. But I should like to know why it would
seem different.
CRAWSHAW (professionally). Ha-hum! Well--in the first place, when a
man is dead he wants his money no longer. You can therefore be
certain that you are not taking anything from him which he cannot
spare. And in the neat place, it is the man's dying wish that you
should have the money. To refuse would be to refuse the dead. To
accept becomes almost a sacred duty.
RICHARD. It really comes to this, doesn't it? You won't take it
from him when he's alive, because if you did, you couldn't decently
refuse him a little gratitude; but you know that it doesn't matter
a damn to him what happens to his money after he's dead, and
therefore you can take it without feeling any gratitude at all.
CRAWSHAW. No, I shouldn't put it like that.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30