There had been in his past actions—recognized by him as bad—for which his conscience ought to have tormented him. But the memory of these evil actions was far from causing him as much suffering as those trivial but humiliating memories. These wounds never healed.

You remember that morning, once a year, when the lilacs had just turned purple out by the front gate, and flags hanging out on the porches—Decoration Day! How we used to hunt through the freshly awakened woods north of town for the rarest wildflowers!