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Nostromo, a Tale of the Seaboard by Joseph Conrad
page 67 of 572 (11%)
She was too startled to say anything; he was contemplating with a
penetrating and motionless stare the cracked marble urn as though he
had resolved to fix its shape for ever in his memory. It was only when,
turning suddenly to her, he blurted out twice, "I've come to you--I've
come straight to you--," without being able to finish his phrase, that
the great pitifulness of that lonely and tormented death in Costaguana
came to her with the full force of its misery. He caught hold of her
hand, raised it to his lips, and at that she dropped her parasol to pat
him on the cheek, murmured "Poor boy," and began to dry her eyes under
the downward curve of her hat-brim, very small in her simple, white
frock, almost like a lost child crying in the degraded grandeur of the
noble hall, while he stood by her, again perfectly motionless in the
contemplation of the marble urn.

Afterwards they went out for a long walk, which was silent till he
exclaimed suddenly--

"Yes. But if he had only grappled with it in a proper way!"

And then they stopped. Everywhere there were long shadows lying on the
hills, on the roads, on the enclosed fields of olive trees; the shadows
of poplars, of wide chestnuts, of farm buildings, of stone walls; and
in mid-air the sound of a bell, thin and alert, was like the throbbing
pulse of the sunset glow. Her lips were slightly parted as though in
surprise that he should not be looking at her with his usual expression.
His usual expression was unconditionally approving and attentive. He was
in his talks with her the most anxious and deferential of dictators,
an attitude that pleased her immensely. It affirmed her power without
detracting from his dignity. That slight girl, with her little feet,
little hands, little face attractively overweighted by great coils of
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