THREE:"But can't you see that he's the chief part of the tragedy you're bringing on yourself and everyone?He's the type, he's the chorus, the commentary on every act. Reuben, can't you seeoh, why won't you see?he's you, yourself, as you really are!"He walked home over Boarzell, scarcely conscious of the ground he trod. He felt like a new-crowned king. As he looked round on the swart hummocks of the Moor, and its crest of firs, dim and bistred against the grey afternoon clouds, he found it hard to realise that it was not all his, that he still had almost the whole of it to fight for, acre by acre. He hurried towards his own little plot, bought, but as yet unconquered, still shagged with gorse and brittle with shards.
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