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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"Nostromo, a Tale of the Seaboard"

"We are bringing down the silver
to-morrow. Then I shall take three whole days off in town with you."
"Ah, you are going to meet the escort. I shall be on the balcony at five
o'clock to see you pass. Till then, good-bye."
Charles Gould walked rapidly round the table, and, seizing her hands,
bent down, pressing them both to his lips. Before he straightened
himself up again to his full height she had disengaged one to smooth his
cheek with a light touch, as if he were a little boy.
"Try to get some rest for a couple of hours," she murmured, with a
glance at a hammock stretched in a distant part of the room. Her long
train swished softly after her on the red tiles. At the door she looked
back.
Two big lamps with unpolished glass globes bathed in a soft and abundant
light the four white walls of the room, with a glass case of arms, the
brass hilt of Henry Gould's cavalry sabre on its square of velvet, and
the water-colour sketch of the San Tome gorge. And Mrs. Gould, gazing at
the last in its black wooden frame, sighed out--
"Ah, if we had left it alone, Charley!"
"No," Charles Gould said, moodily; "it was impossible to leave it
alone.


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