and securities which placed him—from the Hale's Turning point of view—in the class of the well-to-do.
Although reinstatement in his native land had been accompanied by sharp disillusionment, although the people seemed ignorant and their aims petty, although Hale's Turning was little more to him than a plot of ground surrounding Aunt Verona's grave, nevertheless Paul derived a strange satisfaction from being at home. For the first time in his life he could review himself from a trustworthy angle. From his present self to the boy of twelve the lines converged in a perspective that gave a definite proportion to all his deeds. He saw in his tortuous development an instinctive plan of which he had not been clearly conscious during the process of developing. When he contrasted it with that of his former mates, he felt more than consoled for the loneliness and doubt of the intervening years. But satisfaction in his own accomplishment was tinged with bitterness. Why should one have attuned oneself to superfine reactions when life was preponderantly uncouth? Like a racehorse he could easily score on points, but not on utility; the world needed cart-horses.
Re-union with his schoolmates revived aches which he had lived down, reminded him of days when he had stood with a bat in his hand, despite his hatred of organized sports, in the hope that by hitting an exasperating ball he might win from some playmate a reciprocal show of interest in his mental games—an interest which had not been forthcoming. He acutely remembered the jeers that had greeted his failure to hit the ball, his sense of humiliation, his dread of being always in the wrong. And in the interval, how many, many times had the situation been re-echoed!
For twenty years he had manufactured anæsthetics to deaden the smarts caused by disregard of senses raw and exposed.
