gentlest words I could use that his conduct seemed to involve a disregard of several moral obligations. He was much amused and interested when he heard this and said, “No, really?” with ingenuous simplicity.
“You know I don’t intend to be responsible. I never could do it. Responsibility is a thing that has always been above me—or below me,” said Mr. Skimpole. “I don’t even know which; but as I understand the way in which my dear Miss Summerson (always remarkable for her practical good sense and clearness) puts this case, I should imagine it was chiefly a question of money, do you know?”
I incautiously gave a qualified assent to this.
“Ah! Then you see,” said Mr. Skimpole, shaking his head, “I am hopeless of understanding it.”
I suggested, as I rose to go, that it was not right to betray my guardian’s confidence for a bribe.
“My dear Miss Summerson,” he returned with a candid hilarity that was all his own, “I can’t be bribed.”
“Not by Mr. Bucket?” said I.
“No,” said he. “Not by anybody. I don’t attach any value to money. I don’t care about it, I don’t know about it, I don’t want it, I don’t keep it—it goes away from me directly. How can I be bribed?”
I showed that I was of a different opinion, though I had not the capacity for arguing the question.
“On the contrary,” said Mr. Skimpole, “I am exactly the man to be placed in a superior position in such a case as that. I am above the rest of mankind in such a case as that. I can act with philosophy in such a case as that. I am not warped by prejudices, as an Italian baby is by bandages. I am as free as the air. I feel myself as far above suspicion as Caesar’s wife.”