Falk by Joseph Conrad
page 92 of 95 (96%)
page 92 of 95 (96%)
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early on board my ship with a most perplexed air. It struck me, however,
that he too would do his best to survive. He seemed greatly calmed on the subject of Falk, but still very full of it. "What is it you said I was last night? You know," he asked after some preliminary talk. "Too--too--I don't know. A very funny word." "Squeamish?" I suggested. "Yes. What does it mean?" "That you exaggerate things--to yourself. Without inquiry, and so on." He seemed to turn it over in his mind. We went on talking. This Falk was the plague of his life. Upsetting everybody like this! Mrs. Hermann was unwell rather this morning. His niece was crying still. There was nobody to look after the children. He struck his umbrella on the deck. She would be like that for months. Fancy carrying all the way home, second class, a perfectly useless girl who is crying all the time. It was bad for Lena too, he observed; but on what grounds I could not guess. Perhaps of the bad example. That child was already sorrowing and crying enough over the rag doll. Nicholas was really the least sentimental person of the family. "Why does she weep?" I asked. "From pity," cried Hermann. It was impossible to make out women. Mrs. Hermann was the only one he pretended to understand. She was very, very upset and doubtful. |
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