wandering gusts of wind, and while we waited for the candles Falk said,
as if to justify his panic, "I don't interfere in anybody's business.
I don't give any occasion for talk. I am a respectable man. But this
fellow is always making out something wrong, and can never rest till he
gets somebody to believe him."

This was the first of my knowledge of Falk. This desire of
respectability, of being like everybody else, was the only recognition
he vouchsafed to the organisation of mankind. For the rest he might have
been the member of a herd, not of a society. Self-preservation was his
only concern. Not selfishness, but mere self-preservation. Selfishness
presupposes consciousness, choice, the presence of other men; but his
instinct acted as though he were the last of mankind nursing that law
like the only spark of a sacred fire. I don't mean to say that living
naked in a cavern would have satisfied him. Obviously he was
the creature of the conditions to which he was born. No doubt
self-preservation meant also the preservation of these conditions. But
essentially it meant something much more simple, natural, and powerful.
How shall I express it? It meant the preservation of the five senses
of his body--let us say--taking it in its narrowest as well as in its
widest meaning. I think you will admit before long the justice of this
judgment. However, as we stood there together in the dark verandah I had
judged nothing as yet--and I had no desire to judge--which is an idle
practice anyhow. The light was long in coming.

"Of course," I said in a tone of mutual understanding, "it isn't exactly
a game of cards I want with you."

I saw him draw his hands down his face--the vague stir of the passionate
and meaningless gesture; but he waited in silent patience. It was