'I have been risking my
life every day for the last fortnight to keep her out of the house. She
got in one day and kicked up a row about those miserable rags I picked
up in the storeroom to mend my clothes with. I wasn't decent. At least
it must have been that, for she talked like a fury to Kurtz for an hour,
pointing at me now and then. I don't understand the dialect of this
tribe. Luckily for me, I fancy Kurtz felt too ill that day to care, or
there would have been mischief. I don't understand. . . . No--it's too
much for me. Ah, well, it's all over now.'
"At this moment I heard Kurtz's deep voice behind the curtain: 'Save
me!--save the ivory, you mean. Don't tell me. Save _me!_ Why, I've had to
save you. You are interrupting my plans now. Sick! Sick! Not so sick as
you would like to believe. Never mind. I'll carry my ideas out yet--I
will return. I'll show you what can be done. You with your little
peddling notions--you are interfering with me. I will return. I. . . .'
"The manager came out. He did me the honour to take me under the arm
and lead me aside. 'He is very low, very low,' he said. He considered it
necessary to sigh, but neglected to be consistently sorrowful. 'We have
done all we could for him--haven't we? But there is no disguising the
fact, Mr.
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