“Well，now，goodnight。I’mgoingforalittlestroll。“Hisbrainwastooactivetosleep。Hekissedhismothergoodnightandwentoutintotheroad，hishatinhishand，thecool，moistwindonhishair。
Itwasverydark，thestarsbeingpartlyhiddenbyathinvapor。Oneachsidethehillsrose，everylinefamiliarasthefaceofanoldfriend。Awhippoorwillcalledoccasionallyfromthehillside，andthespasmodicjangleofabellnowandthentoldofsomecow’sbattlewiththemosquitoes。
Ashewalked，hepondereduponthetragedyhehadrediscoveredinthesepeople’slives。Outhereundertheinexorablespacesofthesky，adeepdistasteofhisownlifetookpossessionofhim。Hefeltlikegivingitallup。Hethoughtoftheinfinitetragedyoftheseliveswhichtheworldlovestocall“peacefulandpastoral。“HIS
mindwentoutintheaimtohelpthem。Whatcouldhedotomakelifebetterworthliving？Nothing。Theymustliveanddiepracticallyashesawthemtonight。
Andyetheknewthiswasamood，andthatinafewhourstheloveandthehabitoflifewouldcomebackuponhimanduponthem；