I had assumed myself a philosopher, to whom, in the consciousness of right, such trifles were of no consequence.

But, philosophy or not, the fact remained that I was pleased.

People might dislike me--as that lofty Colton girl and her father disliked me, though they could dislike me no more than I did them--but I could compel them to respect me.

They already must think of me as a man.

And so on--as I walked home through the wet grass.