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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"Chance"

Her father followed carrying a few small
objects, a handbag, her handkerchief, a book. They went down together.
It was only then that Captain Anthony turned, looked at the place they
had vacated and resumed his tramping, but not his desultory conversation
with his second officer. His nervous exasperation had grown so much that
now very often he used to lose control of his voice. If he did not watch
himself it would suddenly die in his throat. He had to make sure before
he ventured on the simplest saying, an order, a remark on the wind, a
simple good-morning. That's why his utterance was abrupt, his answers to
people startlingly brusque and often not forthcoming at all.
It happens to the most resolute of men to find himself at grips not only
with unknown forces, but with a well-known force the real might of which
he had not understood. Anthony had discovered that he was not the proud
master but the chafing captive of his generosity. It rose in front of
him like a wall which his respect for himself forbade him to scale. He
said to himself: "Yes, I was a fool--but she has trusted me!" Trusted! A
terrible word to any man somewhat exceptional in a world in which success
has never been found in renunciation and good faith.


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