In the monotony, weariness and greyness of life the glory of the Vision began to grow dim.
In the factory he was not thrown into competition with other boys.

He was the skip, the drudge, the carrier and fetcher, the cleaner and polisher for a work-bench of men devoid of sentiment and blind to his princely qualities.

He tried, indeed, by nimbleness of hand and intelligence, to impress them with his superiority to his predecessors, but they were not impressed.

At the most he escaped curses.

His mind began to work in the logic of the real.