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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
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