It was in the air, a certain vague shrinking and turning of the shoulder, a general atmosphere of aversion and repulsion, an unseen frown, an unexpressed rebuff, intangible, illusive, but as unmistakable as his own existence.

The world he had known knew him now no longer.

It was ostracism at last.
But why?
Why?
Sitting over his tiled flamboyant stove, brooding into the winking coals, Vandover asked himself the question in vain.

He knew what latitude young men were allowed by society; he was sure nothing short of discovered crime could affect them.

True enough he had at one time allowed himself to drift into considerable dissipation, but he was done with that now, he had reformed, he had turned over a new leaf.