Chapter 11 The Bachelors 
HE Mr. Bachelor mentioned in an 
earlier chapter as owner of some sheep 
on the road, figures in my thoughts as 
a product of the more uncouth side of 
the village life of Farnborough from which John 
Smith escaped in his childhood. Bachelor, for his 
part, never escaped, or only a very little way. He 
was a survival; and, I think, he himself felt it. 
So far as I remember he never heartily laughed. 
Always he had the air of a man who knew that 
the world was leaving him behind—a depre- 
cating yet rather defiant air; and in sheer excess 
of honesty he seemed to avoid any pretence at 
the refinements he dimly perceived in others. 
It was really a first-class man you saw, if you could 
see through the half-civilised surface; but this 
last he was careful you should not miss. He 
would rather you thought too ill of him than too 
well. ‘That, at any rate, was my own impression 
of him; and it was greatly strengthened by 
seeing how he was always treated or spoken of 
with respect by my uncle John Smith. Mr. 
Smith never behaved to him as he behaved to 
another neighbour he once brought with him 
to see some new machinery of mine. This 
other man—a farmer, who always appeared 
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