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Rh modest amusement, tender unfolding of love, a "pretty" marriage, squalling children and a succession of mild, equable days leading to a peaceful grave.

Of course, such a life was impossible. That is, now. He was passing young manhood. The boy Kenneth could have been such a Texan. Perhaps he would have been making good money now …

But how account for Mr. Lowell? That old devil had been born in Texas, lived and grew up right here in Selma. What had driven him into the curious bypaths of sex? Fantastic now that castle of Star-ridge; naïve Ken, hypocritical Mr. Lowell. He must ask dad what became of the old imbecile.

For it was imbecilic, now, wasn't it? Ken said aloud: *Tm not really that way." He wasn't, he decided. He'd just never cared about girls. And then Anita, false, foolish Anita. Chance had made her the only woman with whom he had been intimate. She, too, was an imbecile, more than a little mad. Thoughts of her were nauseating to him. He let his eyelids droop; he dozed; he fell asleep.

When Ken could walk, he visited the village. It was much the same. Old Kennealy, the grocer, was gone. An A. & P. had taken his place. Fire had gutted Ike Levine's department store. He'd used the insurance to open a big establishment in Sweetwater, hard by. Mr. Barton was still talking about the God-Like life in the First Presbyterian Church. Dud Betts was married now, two children. Old Asher was dead.

That day Uncle Joe came in from Wayne. Very old now. Eighty-six. Really dad's uncle. He'd butchered a pig, though, that very morning and then driven the wobbly