And the unworried, unaccented voice of her father went on tormenting her.
"You see, you must understand. When I came out of jail it was with joy.
That is, my soul was fairly torn in two--but anyway to see you happy--I
had made up my mind to that. Once I could be sure that you were happy
then of course I would have had no reason to care for life--strictly
speaking--which is all right for an old man; though naturally . . . no
reason to wish for death either. But this sort of life! What sense,
what meaning, what value has it either for you or for me? It's just
sitting down to look at the death, that's coming, coming. What else is
it? I don't know how you can put up with that. I don't think you can
stand it for long. Some day you will jump overboard."
Captain Anthony had stopped for a moment staring ahead from the break of
the poop, and poor Flora sent at his back a look of despairing appeal
which would have moved a heart of stone. But as though she had done
nothing he did not stir in the least. She got out of the long chair and
went towards the companion.
Pages:
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605