He knew his own defects; he knew he must sink into less and less consideration in the turmoil of a city life, sink more and more from the child into the servant.

And he began dimly to believe the Doctor's prophecies of evil.
He could see a change in both.

His generous incredulity failed him for this once; a child must have perceived that the Hermitage had completed what the absinthe had begun.

If this were the first day, what would be the last?
'If necessary, wreck the train,' thought he, remembering the Doctor's parable.

He looked round on the delightful scene; he drank deep of the charmed night air, laden with the scent of hay.