Cokeson. The two things together make it very awkward for you—I see that.
Walter. [Tentatively] I don’t quite know what we have to do with his private life.
James. No, no! He must make a clean sheet of it, or he can’t come here.
Walter. Poor devil!
Cokeson. Will you—have him in? [And as James nods] I think I can get him to see reason.
James. [Grimly] You can leave that to me, Cokeson.
Walter. [To James, in a low voice, while
Cokeson is summoning
Falder] His whole future may depend on what
we do, dad.
Falder comes in. He has pulled himself together, and presents a steady front.
James. Now look here, Falder. My son and I want to give you another chance; but there are two things I must say to you. In the first place: It’s no good coming here as a victim. If you’ve any notion that you’ve been unjustly treated—get rid of it. You can’t play fast and loose with morality and hope to go scot-free. If Society didn’t take care of itself, nobody would—the sooner you realise that the better.
Falder. Yes, sir; but—may I say something?
James. Well?
Falder. I had a lot of time to think it over in prison. [He stops]
Cokeson. [Encouraging him] I’m sure you did.
Falder. There were all sorts there. And what I mean, sir, is, that if we’d been treated differently the first time, and put under somebody that could look after us a bit, and not put in prison, not a quarter of us would ever have got there.
James. [Shaking his head] I’m afraid I’ve
very grave doubts of that,
Falder.
Falder. [With a gleam of malice] Yes, sir, so I found.
James. My good fellow, don’t forget that you began it.
Falder. I never wanted to do wrong.
James. Perhaps not. But you did.
Falder. [With all the bitterness of his past suffering] It’s knocked me out of time. [Pulling himself up] That is, I mean, I’m not what I was.
James. This isn’t encouraging for us, Falder.
Cokeson. He’s putting it awkwardly, Mr. James.
Falder. [Throwing over his caution from the intensity of his feeling] I mean it, Mr. Cokeson.
James. Now, lay aside all those thoughts, Falder, and look to the future.
Falder. [Almost eagerly] Yes, sir, but you don’t understand what prison is. It’s here it gets you.
He grips his chest.
Cokeson. [In a whisper to James] I told you he wanted nourishment.
Walter. Yes, but, my dear fellow, that’ll pass away. Time’s merciful.
Falder. [With his face twitching] I hope so, sir.