t insane in its audacious generosity,
is difficult to explain. Perhaps when he came on the poop for a glance
he found that man so different outwardly from what he expected that he
decided to meet him for the first time out of everybody's sight. Possibly
the general secrecy of his relation to the girl might have influenced
him. Truly he may well have been dismayed. That man's coming brought
him face to face with the necessity to speak and act a lie; to appear
what he was not and what he could never be, unless, unless--

In short, we'll say if you like that for various reasons, all having to
do with the delicate rectitude of his nature, Roderick Anthony (a man of
whom his chief mate used to say: he doesn't know what fear is) was
frightened. There is a Nemesis which overtakes generosity too, like all
the other imprudences of men who dare to be lawless and proud . . . "

"Why do you say this?" I inquired, for Marlow had stopped abruptly and
kept silent in the shadow of the bookcase.

"I say this because that man whom chance had thrown in Flora's way was
both: lawless and proud. Whether he knew anything about it or not it
does not matter. Very likely not. One may fling a glove in the face of
nature and in the face of one's own moral endurance quite innocently,
with a simplicity which wears the aspect of perfectly Satanic conceit.
However, as I have said it does not matter. It's a transgression all the
same and has got to be paid for in the usual way. But never mind that. I
paused because, like Anthony, I find a difficulty, a sort of dread in
coming to grips with old de Barral.

You remember I had a glimpse of him once. He was not an imposing
personality: tall, thin, straight, stiff, faded, moving with short steps
and with a gliding motion, speaking in an even low voice. When the sea
was rough he wasn't much seen on deck--at least not walking. He caught
hold of things then and dragged himself along as far as the after
skylight where he would sit for hours. Our, then young, friend offered
once to assist him and this service was the first beginning of a sort of
friendship. He clung hard to one--Powell says, with no figurative
intention. Powell was always on the lookout to assist, and to assist
mainly Mrs. Anthony, because he clung so jolly hard to her that Powell
was afraid of her being dragged down notwithstanding that she very soon
became very sure-footed in all sorts of weather. And Powell was the only
o