It always has been that way; things go to smash if I try to do anything....

Well, Hamil, we'll go on in your own fashion, if we must--for a while.

But"-- and he laughed mirthlessly--"if it ends in a little shooting--you mustn't blame me!" Hamil surveyed him in cold displeasure.
"I always expected you'd find your level," he observed.
"Yes, I'll find it," mused Malcourt, "as soon as I know what it ought to be.

Under pressure it is difficult to ascertain such things; one's true level may be higher or lower.

My father and I have often discussed this matter--and the ethics of straight shooting." Hamil's eyes narrowed.
"If you mean that as a threat"-- he began contemptuously; but Malcourt, who had suddenly assumed that curious listening attitude, raised his hand impatiently, as though silencing interruption.
And long after Hamil had turned on his heel and gone, he stood there, graceful head lowered a little and partly turned as though poetically appreciative of the soft twittering music which the bluebirds were making among the falling apple-bloom.
Then, slowly, not noticing Hamil's departure, he retraced his steps through the garden, head slightly inclined, as though to catch the murmur of some invisible companion accompanying him.