It sounded very respectable, and Willems approved of those feeling
references. Moreover, he prided himself upon having no colour-prejudices
and no racial antipathies. He consented to drink curacoa one afternoon
on the verandah of Mrs. da Souza's house. He remembered Joanna that day,
swinging in a hammock. She was untidy even then, he remembered, and that
was the only impression he carried away from that visit. He had no time
for love in those glorious days, no time even for a passing fancy, but
gradually he fell into the habit of calling almost every day at that
little house where he was greeted by Mrs. da Souza's shrill voice
screaming for Joanna to come and entertain the gentleman from Hudig
& Co. And then the sudden and unexpected visit of the priest. He
remembered the man's flat, yellow face, his thin legs, his propitiatory
smile, his beaming black eyes, his conciliating manner, his veiled hints
which he did not understand at the time. How he wondered what the man
wanted, and how unceremoniously he got rid of him. And then came vividly
into his recollection the morning when he met again that fellow coming
out of Hudig's office, and how he was amused at the incongruous visit.
And that morning with Hudig! Would he ever forget it? Would he ever
forget his surprise as the master, instead of plunging at once into
business, looked at him thoughtfully before turning, with a furtive
smile, to the papers on the desk? He could hear him now, his nose in the
paper before him, dropping astonishing words in the intervals of wheezy
breathing.

"Heard said . . . called there often . . . most respectable ladies . . .
knew the father very well . . . estimable . . . best thing for a young
man . . . settle down. . . . Personally, very glad to hear . . . thing
arranged. . . . Suitable recognition of valuable services. . . . Best
thing--best thing to do."