[...]journalist friend that the suggestions of his own face, the face of a friend, bothered him as much as the others. He detected a degrading quality in the touches of age which every day adds to a human countenance. They moved and disturbed him, like the signs of a horrible inward travail which was frightfully apparent to the fresh eye he had brought from his isolation in Malata, where he had settled after five strenuous years of adventure and exploration. It's a fact, he said, that when I am at home in Malata I see one consciously. I take the plantation boys for granted. Well, and we here take the people in the streets for granted. And that's sanity. The visitor said thing to this for fear of engaging a discussion. What he had come to [...].