And for the first time he realised that among the ruthless, no
ruthlessness was permitted him; among the reckless, circumspection had
been required of him; no arrogance, no insolence had been permitted
him among the arrogant and insolent; for, when such as he turned
threateningly upon one of those belonging to that elemental matrix
of which he dared suppose himself an integral part, he found that
he was mistaken. Danger to one from such as he endangered their
common caste--such as it was. And, silently, subtly, all through
that portion of the social fabric, he became slowly sensible of
resistance--resistance everywhere, from every quarter.
Now, hunched up there in his chair, he began to understand. If Ruthven
had been a blackguard--it was not for him to punish him--no, not even
threaten to expose him. His own caste would take care of that; his own
sort would manage such affairs. Meanwhile Neergard had presumed to annoy
them, and the society into which he had forced himself and which he had
digestively affected, was now, squid-like, slowly turning itself inside
out to expel him as a foreign substance from which such unimportant
nutrition as he had afforded had been completely extracted.
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