My dear Basil, you talk of pity, and you talk of duty, but are you sure there's anything more in it than vanity? You've set yourself up on a sort of moral pinnacle. Are you sure you don't admire your own heroism a little too much?
Basil.
[With a good-natured smile.] Does it look so petty as that in your eyes? After all, it's only common morality.
John.
[Impatiently.] But, my dear chap, its absurd to act according to an unrealisable ideal in a world that's satisfied with the second-rate. You're tendering bank-notes to African savages, among whom cowrie shells are common coin.
Basil.
[Smiling.] I don't know what you mean.
John.
Society has made its own decalogue, a code that's just fit for middling people who are not very good and not very wicked. But Society punishes you equally if your actions are higher than its ideal or lower.
Basil.