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“Iadmitsheisn’telegant，butIthinkshe’sagoodwifeandmother。“
“Iwonderifthey’realllikethat？“
“Now，Mate，wemusttrynottooffendthem。Wemusttrytobeoneofthem。“
Butthiswaseasiersaidthandone。Ashewentdowntothepostofficeandstoodwaitingforhismailliketherest，hetriedtoenterintoconversationwitbthem，butmainlytheymovedawayfromhim。WilliamMcTurgnoddedathimandsaid，“Howdedo？“andMcLaneaskedhowhelikedhisnewplace，andthatwasaboutall。
Hecouldn’treachthem。Theysuspectedhim。Theyhadonlytheestimateofthemenwhohadworkedforhim；and，whiletheywerecivil，theyplainlydidn’tneedhimintheslightestdegree，exceptasatopicofconversation。
Hedidnotimproveashehadhopedtodo。Thespringwaswetandcold，themostrainyanddepressingthevalleyhadseeninmanyyears。Dayafterdaytheraincloudssailedinoverthenorthernhillsanddelugedtheflatlittletownwithwater，tillthefrogssangineverystreet，tillthemainstreetmireddowneveryteamthatdroveintoit。
Thecornrottedintheearth，butthegrassgrewtallandyellow-green，thetreesglistenedthroughthegrayair，andthehillswerelikegreenjewelsofincalculableworth，whenthesunshone，atsweetinfrequentintervals。
Thecoldanddampstruckthroughintothealien’sheart。Itseemedtoprophesyhisdarkfuture。Hesatathisdeskandlookedoutintothegrayrainwithgloomyeyes-aprisonerwhenhehadexpectedtobefree。
Hehadfailedinhislastventure。Hehadnotgainedanypower-hewasreailyweakerthanever。Therainhadkepthimconfinedtothehouse。Thejoyhehadanticipatedoftracingoutallhisboyishpleasurehauntswascutoff。Hehadrelied，too，uponthatasasourceofliterarypower。
Hecouldnotdomuchmorethanwalkdowntothepostofficeandbackonthepleasantestdays。Afewpeoplecalled，buthecouldnottalktothem，andtheydidnotcallagain。
Inthemeanwhilehislittlebankaccountwasvanishing。Theboyswerestrongandhappy；thatwashisonlycomfort。Andhiswifeseemedstrong，too。Shehadlittletimetogetlonesome。
Hegrewmorbid。Hisweaknessandinsecuritymadehimjealousofthesecurityandhealthofothers。
Hegrewalmosttohatethepeopleashesawthemcomingandgoinginthemud，orheardtheirloudheartyvoicessoundingfromthestreet。Hehatedtheirgossip，theirdulljokes。Theflatlittletowngrewvulgarandlowanddesolatetohim。
Everylittlethingwhichhadamusedhimnowannoyedhim。Thecutoftheirbeardsworriedhim。Theirvoicesjarreduponhim。
Everydayortwohebrokeforthtohiswifeinlongtiradesofabuse。
“Oh，Ican’tstandthesepeople!Theydon’tknowany-thing。Theytalkeveryragofgossipintoshreds。Taters，fish，hops；hops，fish，andtaters。They’vesavedandpinchedandtoiledtilltheirsoulsarepinchedandgroundaway。You’reright。Theyarecaricatures。Theydon’treadorthinkaboutanythinginwhichI’minterested。Thislifeisnerve-destroying。Talkaboutthehealthofthevillagelife!itdestroysbodyandsoul。Itdebilitatesme。Itwillwarpusbothdowntothelevelofthesepeople。“
Shetriedtostophim，buthewenton，aflushoffeveronhischeek：
“Theydegradethenaturetheyhavetouched。Theirsquatlittletownisacaricaturelikethemselves。Everythingtheytouchtheybelittle。Heretheysitwhileside-walksrotandteamsmireinthestreets。“
Heragedonlikeonedemented-bitter，accusing，rebellious。Insuchamoodhecouldnotwrite。Inplaceofinspiringhim，thelittletownanditspeopleseemedtounderminehispowerandturnhissweetnessofspiritintogallandacid。Heonlybowedtothemnowashewalkedfeeblyamongthem，andtheyexcuseditbyreferringtohissickness。Theyeyedhimeachtimewithpityingeyes；“He’sfailin’fast，“theysaidamongthemselves。
Oneday，ashewasreturningfromthepostoffice，hefeltblindforamomentand
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