I could not help it: there was a poison in my veins that made me all ingratitude and perversity.

The world welcomed me back, and I returned the compliment by sulking like the recaptured runaway I was at heart.

The world showed a sudden interest in me; so I took no further interest in the world, but, on the contrary, resented its attentions with unreasonable warmth and obduracy; and my would-be friends I regarded as my very worst enemies.

The majority, I feel sure, meant but well and kindly by the poor survivor.

But the survivor could not forget that his name was still in the newspapers, nor blink the fact that he was an unworthy hero of the passing hour.