The Children of Men

by P.D. James

Theo said: “I’ll drive. You can choose the route. I take it you can read a map.” The cheap jibe had been unwise. Rolf’s voice was dangerously calm: “You despise us, don’t you?” “No, why should I?” “You don’t need a reason. You despise the whole world except people of your own sort, people who have had your education, your advantages, your choices. Gascoigne was twice the man you are. What have you ever produced in your life? What have you ever done except talk about the past? No wonder you chose museums as meeting places. That’s where you feel at home. Gascoigne could destroy a landing stage and put a stop to a Quietus single-handed. Could you?” “Use explosives? No, I admit that that isn’t among my accomplishments.” Rolf mimicked his voice: “ ‘I admit that that isn’t among my accomplishments’! You should hear yourself. You’re not one of us, you never have been. You haven’t got the guts. And don’t think we really want you. Don’t think we like you. You’re here because you’re the Warden’s cousin. That might be useful.”

Grown ups talking here. I like what this is doing.