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Updated: June 18, 2025
And without that it is extremely difficult to guard against clerical errors in this climate. "One day he remarked, without lifting his head, 'In the interior you will no doubt meet Mr. Kurtz. On my asking who Mr.
I admit my behaviour was inexcusable, but then my temperature was seldom normal in these days. My dear aunt's endeavours to 'nurse up my strength' seemed altogether beside the mark. It was not my strength that wanted nursing, it was my imagination that wanted soothing. I kept the bundle of papers given me by Kurtz, not knowing exactly what to do with it.
The night was very clear: a dark blue space, sparkling with dew and starlight, in which black things stood very still. I thought I could see a kind of motion ahead of me. I was strangely cocksure of everything that night. I was circumventing Kurtz as though it had been a boyish game. "I came upon him, and, if he had not heard me coming, I would have fallen over him too, but he got up in time.
Talking with... I flung one shoe overboard, and became aware that that was exactly what I had been looking forward to a talk with Kurtz. I made the strange discovery that I had never imagined him as doing, you know, but as discoursing.
Hurry up. Approach cautiously. There was a signature, but it was illegible not Kurtz a much longer word. 'Hurry up. Where? Up the river? 'Approach cautiously. We had not done so. But the warning could not have been meant for the place where it could be only found after approach. Something was wrong above. But what and how much? That was the question.
You take Kurtz away quick quick I tell you. The glamour of youth enveloped his parti-coloured rags, his destitution, his loneliness, the essential desolation of his futile wanderings.
You can't hit anything unless you take aim and fire from the shoulder; but these chaps fired from the hip with their eyes shut. The retreat, I maintained and I was right was caused by the screeching of the steam-whistle. Upon this they forgot Kurtz, and began to howl at me with indignant protests.
One day, during the slack holiday season, Hannibal Wharton appeared at the Kurtz establishment. He appraised the elaborate surroundings with a hostile eye and stared at his son impassively. "So! You're a seamstress now," he began, and Bob grinned. "Merkle told me you repaid his loan and had an automobile." "That's true." "Second-hand car?" "No." "How much do you owe?" "Nothing, except for stock."
The two fellows there seemed astounded at anybody attempting such a thing. They were at a loss for an adequate motive. As to me, I seemed to see Kurtz for the first time.
This initiated wraith from the back of Nowhere honored me with its amazing confidence before it vanished altogether. This was because it could speak English to me. The original Kurtz had been educated partly in England, and as he was good enough to say himself his sympathies were in the right place. His mother was half-English, his father was half-French.
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