“Have some whiskey,” returned Cronshaw, passing over the bottle.  “There’s nothing like it for clearing the head.  You must expect to be thick-witted if you insist upon drinking beer.”

Philip shook his head, and Cronshaw proceeded: 

“You’re not a bad fellow, but you won’t drink.  Sobriety disturbs conversation.  But when I speak of good and bad...”  Philip saw he was taking up the thread of his discourse, “I speak conventionally.  I attach no meaning to those words.  I refuse to make a hierarchy of human actions and ascribe worthiness to some and ill-repute to others.  The terms vice and virtue have no signification for me.  I do not confer praise or blame:  I accept.  I am the measure of all things.  I am the centre of the world.”

“But there are one or two other people in the world,” objected Philip.

“I speak only for myself.  I know them only as they limit my activities.  Round each of them too the world turns, and each one for himself is the centre of the universe.  My right over them extends only as far as my power.  What I can do is the only limit of what I may do.  Because we are gregarious we live in society, and society holds together by means of force, force of arms (that is the policeman) and force of public opinion (that is Mrs. Grundy).  You have society on one hand and the individual on the other:  each is an organism striving for self-preservation.  It is might against might.  I stand alone, bound to accept society and not unwilling, since in return for the taxes I pay it protects me, a weakling, against the tyranny of another stronger than I am; but I submit to its laws because I must; I do not acknowledge their justice:  I do not know justice, I only know power.  And when I have paid for the policeman who protects me and, if I live in a country where conscription is in force, served in the army which guards my house and land from the invader, I am quits with society:  for the rest I counter its might with my wiliness.  It makes laws for its self-preservation, and if I break them it imprisons or kills me:  it has the might to do so and therefore the right.  If I break the laws I will accept the vengeance of the state, but I will not regard it as punishment nor shall I feel myself convicted of wrong-doing.  Society tempts me to its service by honours and riches and the good opinion of my fellows; but I am indifferent to their good opinion, I despise honours and I can do very well without riches.”

“But if everyone thought like you things would go to pieces at once.”

“I have nothing to do with others, I am only concerned with myself.  I take advantage of the fact that the majority of mankind are led by certain rewards to do things which directly or indirectly tend to my convenience.”

“It seems to me an awfully selfish way of looking at things,” said Philip.

“But are you under the impression that men ever do anything except for selfish reasons?”