"Hopeless! . . . See these geese?"

With the hand holding the letters he pointed out to me what resembled
a patch of snow creeping and swaying across the distant part of his
compound. It disappeared behind some bushes.

"The only geese on the East Coast," Almayer informed me, in a
perfunctory mutter without a spark of faith, hope, or pride. Thereupon,
with the same absence of any sort of sustaining spirit, he declared his
intention to select a fat bird and send him on board for us not later
than next day.

I had heard of these largesses before. He conferred a goose as if it
were a sort of court decoration given only to the tried friends of the
house. I had expected more pomp in the ceremony. The gift had surely
its special quality, multiple and rare. From the only flock on the East
Coast! He did not make half enough of it. That man did not understand
his opportunities. However, I thanked him at some length.

"You see," he interrupted, abruptly, in a very peculiar tone, "the worst
of this country is that one is not able to realize . . . it's impossible
to realize. . . ." His voice sank into a languid mutter. "And when
one has very large interests . . . very important interests . . ." he
finished, faintly . . . "up the river."

We looked at each other. He astonished me by giving a start and making a
very queer grimace.

"Well, I must be off," he burst out, hurriedly. "So long!"