n an impassioned murmur--

"And then I would have her all to myself away from her people--all
to myself--under my own influence--to fashion--to mould--to adore--to
soften--to . . . Oh! Delight! And then--then go away to some distant
place where, far from all she knew, I would be all the world to her! All
the world to her!"

His face changed suddenly. His eyes wandered for awhile and then became
steady all at once.

"I would repay every cent, of course," he said, in a business-like tone,
with something of his old assurance, of his old belief in himself, in
it. "Every cent. I need not interfere with your business. I shall cut
out the small native traders. I have ideas--but never mind that now. And
Captain Lingard would approve, I feel sure. After all it's a loan, and I
shall be at hand. Safe thing for you."

"Ah! Captain Lingard would approve! He would app . . ." Almayer choked.
The notion of Lingard doing something for Willems enraged him. His face
was purple. He spluttered insulting words. Willems looked at him coolly.

"I assure you, Almayer," he said, gently, "that I have good grounds for
my demand."

"Your cursed impudence!"

"Believe me, Almayer, your position here is not so safe as you may
think. An unscrupulous rival here would destroy your trade in a year.
It would be ruin. Now Lingard's long absence gives courage to certain
individuals. You know?--I have heard much lately. They made proposals to
me . . . You are very much alone here. Even Patalolo . . ."

"Damn Patalolo! I am master in this place."

"But, Almayer, don't you see . . ."

"Yes, I see. I see a mysterious ass," interrupted Almayer, violently.
"What is the meaning of your veiled threats? Don't you think I know
something also? They have been intriguing for years--and nothing has
happened. The Arabs have been hanging about outside this river for
years--and I am still the only trader here; the master here. Do you
bring me a declaration of war? Then it's from yourself only. I know all
my other enemies. I ought to knock you on the head. You are not worth
powder and shot though. You ought to be destroyed with a stick--like a
snake."

Almayer's voice woke up the little girl, who sat up on the pillow with a
sharp cry. He rushed over to the chair, caught up the child in his arms,
walked back blindly, stumbled against Willems' hat which lay on the
floor, and kicked it furiously down the steps.

"Clear out of this! Clear out!" he shouted.

Wille