In the midst of these and similar thoughts, and of innumerable minor thoughts about himself, in the very centre of his mind and occupying nearly the whole of it, was the vast thought, the obsession, of his own potential power and its fulfilment.  George’s egotism was terrific, and as right as any other natural phenomenon.  He had to get on.  Much money was included in his scheme, but simply as a by-product.  He had to be a great architect, and—­equally important—­he had to be publicly recognized as a great architect, and recognition could not come without money.  For him, the entire created universe was the means to his end.  He would not use it unlawfully, but he would use it.  He was using it, as well as he yet knew how, and with an independence that was as complete as it was unconscious.  In regard to matters upon which his instinct had not suggested a course of action, George was always ready enough to be taught; indeed his respect for an expert was truly deferential.  But when his instinct had begun to operate he would consult nobody and consider nobody, being deeply sure that infallible wisdom had been granted to him. (Nor did experience seem to teach him.) Thus, in the affair of a London lodging, though he was still two years from his majority and had no resources save the purse of his stepfather, Edwin Clayhanger, he had decided to leave the Orgreaves without asking or even informing his parents.  In his next letter home he would no doubt inform them, casually, of what he meant to do or actually had done, and if objections followed he would honestly resent them.

A characteristic example of his independence had happened when at the unripe age of seventeen he left the Five Towns for London.  Upon his mother’s marriage to Edwin Clayhanger his own name had been informally changed for him to Clayhanger.  But a few days before the day of departure he had announced that, as Clayhanger was not his own name and that he preferred his own name, he should henceforth be known as ‘Cannon,’ his father’s name.  He did not invite discussion.  Mr. Clayhanger had thereupon said to him privately and as one man of the world to another:  “But you aren’t really entitled to the name Cannon, sonny.”  “Why?” “Because your father was what’s commonly known as a bigamist, and his marriage with your mother was not legal.  I thought I’d take this opportunity of telling you.  You needn’t say anything to your mother—­unless of course you feel you must.”  To which George had replied:  “No, I won’t.  But if Cannon was my father’s name I think I’ll have it all the same.”  And he did have it.  The bigamy of his father did not apparently affect him.  Upon further inquiry he learnt that his father might be alive or might be dead, but that if alive he was in America.