I thought it a little too much that he should complain of being cut short in his flower after all, as if he had not been running to seed, leaf after leaf, ever since his course began.

This, however, was a mere question of length and wearisomeness.

What stung me, was the identification of the whole affair with my unoffending self.

When Barnwell began to go wrong, I declare that I felt positively apologetic, Pumblechook's indignant stare so taxed me with it.

Wopsle, too, took pains to present me in the worst light.