That shows all the time. You see the sort of man I am. I've a broad
streak of personal vanity. I fag easily. I'm short-tempered. I've other
things, as you perceive. When I fag I become obtuse, I repeat and bore,
I get viciously ill-tempered, I suffer from an intolerable sense of
ill usage. Then that ass, Wagstaffe, who ought to be working with me
steadily, sees his chance to be pleasantly witty. He gets a laugh round
the table at my expense. Young Dent, the more intelligent of the labour
men, reads me a lecture in committee manners. Old Cassidy sees HIS
opening and jabs some ridiculous petty accusation at me and gets me
spluttering self-defence like a fool. All my stock goes down, and as my
stock goes down the chances of a good report dwindle. Young Dent grieves
to see me injuring my own case. Too damned a fool to see what will
happen to the report! You see if only they can convince themselves I am
just a prig and an egotist and an impractical bore, they escape from a
great deal more than my poor propositions. They escape from the doubt
in themselves. By dismissing me they dismiss their own consciences.
And then they can scamper off and be sensible little piggy-wigs and not
bother any more about what is to happen to mankind in the long run.
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