MORELL. Then why don't you behave as you did then?

BURGESS (cautiously removing his hand). 'Ow d'y'mean?

MORELL. I'll tell you. You thought me a young fool then.

BURGESS (coaxingly). No, I didn't, James. I--

MORELL (cutting him short). Yes, you did. And I thought you an
old scoundrel.

BURGESS (most vehemently deprecating this gross self-accusation
on Morell's part). No, you didn't, James. Now you do yourself a
hinjustice.

MORELL. Yes, I did. Well, that did not prevent our getting on
very well together. God made you what I call a scoundrel as he
made me what you call a fool. (The effect of this observation on
Burgess is to remove the keystone of his moral arch. He becomes
bodily weak, and, with his eyes fixed on Morell in a helpless
stare, puts out his hand apprehensively to balance himself, as if
the floor had suddenly sloped under him. Morell proceeds in the
same tone of quiet conviction.) It was not for me to quarrel with
his handiwork in the one case more than in the other. So long as
you come here honestly as a self-respecting, thorough, convinced
scoundrel, justifying your scoundrelism, and proud of it, you are
welcome. But (and now Morell's tone becomes formidable; and he
rises and strikes the back of the chair for greater emphasis) I
won't have you here snivelling about being a model employer and a
converted man when you're only an apostate with your coat turned