Ностромо

           Gould,thetimeapproacheswhenallthattheGouldConcessionstandsforshallweighasheavilyuponthepeopleasthebarbarism,cruelty,andmisruleofafewyearsback.”

           “Howcanyousaythat,Dr.Monygham?”shecriedout,asifhurtinthemostsensitiveplaceofhersoul.

           “Icansaywhatistrue,”thedoctorinsisted,obstinately.“It’llweighasheavily,andprovokeresentment,bloodshed,andvengeance,becausethemenhavegrowndifferent.DoyouthinkthatnowtheminewouldmarchuponthetowntosavetheirSenorAdministrador?Doyouthinkthat?”

           Shepressedthebacksofherentwinedhandsonhereyesandmurmuredhopelessly—

           “Isitthiswehaveworkedfor,then?”

           Thedoctorloweredhishead.Hecouldfollowhersilentthought.Wasitforthisthatherlifehadbeenrobbedofalltheintimatefelicitiesofdailyaffectionwhichhertendernessneededasthehumanbodyneedsairtobreathe?Andthedoctor,indignantwithCharlesGould’sblindness,hastenedtochangetheconversation.

           “ItisaboutNostromothatIwantedtotalktoyou.Ah!thatfellowhassomecontinuityandforce.Nothingwillputanendtohim.Butnevermindthat.There’ssomethinginexplicablegoingon—orperhapsonlytooeasytoexplain.Youknow,LindaispracticallythelighthousekeeperoftheGreatIsabellight.TheGaribaldinoistoooldnow.Hispartistocleanthelampsandtocookinthehouse;buthecan’tgetupthestairsanylonger.