Free George Passant by C. P. Snow Page B

George said. ‘You suspect the use I intend to make of my money. And in any case you claim a right to supervise it, whether you suspect me or not.’
    ‘We’re trying to help you, that’s all. We must try to help you. You can’t expect us to forget who you are and see you lose or waste everything.’
    ‘That amounts to claiming a right to interfere in my affairs. I’ve had this out too many times before. I don’t admit it for a single moment. If I make my own judgment and decide to spend every penny I receive on my own pleasures, I’m entitled to do so.’
    ‘We’ve seen some of your judgment,’ said Mrs Passant. George turned to her. His anger grew stronger, but with a new note of pleading: ‘Don’t you understand I can’t give way in this? I can’t give way in the life I lead or the money I spend. In the last resort, I insist of being the judge of my own actions. If that’s accepted, I’m prepared to justify the present case. I warn you that I’ve made up my mind, but I’m prepared to justify it.’
    ‘You’re prepared to keep other people with your money. That’s what you want to do,’ said Mrs Passant.
    ‘You must believe what I’ve told you till I’m tired,’ George shouted. ‘We’re only talking about this particular sum of money I propose to use in a particular way. What I’ve done in the past and what I may do in the future are utterly beside the point. This particular sum I’m not going to spend on a woman, if that’s what you’re thinking. If you won’t believe me–’
    ‘We believe that, we believe that,’ Mr Passant burst out. George stared at his mother.
    ‘Very well. Then the point is this, and nothing but this; that I’m going to spend the money on someone I’m responsible for. That responsibility is the most decent task I’m ever likely to have. So the only question is whether I can afford it or not. Nothing I’ve ever learned in this house has given me any respect for your opinions on that matter. Your only grumble could be that I shan’t be discharging my duty and making my contribution here. I admit that is a duty. I’m not trying to evade it. Have I ever got out of it except for a day or two? Have I ever got out of it since I was qualified?’
    ‘You’re making a song about it. By the side of what we’ve done,’ she said.
    ‘I want an answer. Have I ever got out of it?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘Do you suggest I shall get out of it now?’
    She said, with a sudden bitter and defenceless smile: ‘Oh, I expect you’ll go on throwing me a few shillings. Just to ease your mind before you go off with the others.’
    ‘Do you want every penny I earn?’
    ‘If you gave me every penny,’ she said, ‘you’d still only be trying to ease your mind.’
    George said in a quietened, contrite tone: ‘Of course, it’s not the money. You wouldn’t worry for a single instant if my salary were cut and I couldn’t afford to find any. I ought to know’ – his face lightened into an affectionate smile – ‘that you’re just as bad with money as I am myself.’
    ‘I know that you can afford to find money for these other people. Just as you can afford to give them all your time. You’re putting them in the first place–’
    ‘It’s easy to give your money without thinking,’ said Mr Passant. ‘But that’s worse than meanness if you neglect your real duties or obligations–’
    ‘To hear you talk of duties,’ Mrs Passant turned on him. ‘I might have listened to that culch if I hadn’t lived with you for thirty years.’
    ‘I’ve left things I ought not to have left,’ said Mr Passant. ‘You’ve got a right to say that.’
    ‘I’m going to say, and for the last time,’ George cried, ‘that I intend to spend this money on the realest duty that I’m ever likely to find.’
    Mrs Passant said to her husband: ‘You’ve never done a mortal act you didn’t want. Neither will he. I pity anyone who has to think twice about either of