Лорд Джим

Chapter 7

           Itwaslikeathingofwhichtherewouldbenomorequestioninthisworld.AndallthetimeIhadbeforemetheseblue,boyisheyeslookingstraightintomine,thisyoungface,thesecapableshoulders,theopenbronzedforeheadwithawhitelineundertherootsofclusteringfairhair,thisappearanceappealingatsighttoallmysympathies:thisfrankaspect,theartlesssmile,theyouthfulseriousness.Hewasoftherightsort;hewasoneofus.Hetalkedsoberly,withasortofcomposedunreserve,andwithaquietbearingthatmighthavebeentheoutcomeofmanlyself-control,ofimpudence,ofcallousness,ofacolossalunconsciousness,ofagiganticdeception.Whocantell!Fromourtonewemighthavebeendiscussingathirdperson,afootballmatch,lastyear’sweather.Mymindfloatedinaseaofconjecturestilltheturnoftheconversationenabledme,withoutbeingoffensive,toremarkthat,uponthewhole,thisinquirymusthavebeenprettytryingtohim.Hedartedhisarmacrossthetablecloth,andclutchingmyhandbythesideofmyplate,glaredfixedly.Iwasstartled.“Itmustbeawfullyhard,”Istammered,confusedbythisdisplayofspeechlessfeeling.“Itishell,”heburstoutinamuffledvoice.

           ‘Thismovementandthesewordscausedtwowell-groomedmaleglobe-trottersataneighbouringtabletolookupinalarmfromtheiricedpudding.Irose,andwepassedintothefrontgalleryforcoffeeandcigars.

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