"You shameless woman! Are you a slave?" shouted shrilly the irate
matron. "Veil your face, abandoned wretch! You white snake, I will not
let you!"
Almayer's face expressed annoyance and also doubt as to the advisability
of interfering between mother and daughter. He glanced at his Malay
visitor, who was waiting silently for the end of the uproar in an
attitude of amused expectation, and waving his hand contemptuously he
murmured--
"It is nothing. Some women."
The Malay nodded his head gravely, and his face assumed an expression of
serene indifference, as etiquette demanded after such an explanation. The
contest was ended behind the curtain, and evidently the younger will had
its way, for the rapid shuffle and click of Mrs. Almayer's high-heeled
sandals died away in the distance. The tranquillised master of the house
was going to resume the conversation when, struck by an unexpected change
in the expression of his guest's countenance, he turned his head and saw
Nina standing in the doorway.
After Mrs. Almayer's retreat from the field of battle, Nina, with a
contemptuous exclamation, "It's only a trader," had lifted the conquered
curtain and now stood in full light, framed in the dark background on the
passage, her lips slightly parted, her hair in disorder after the
exertion, the angry gleam not yet faded out of her glorious and sparkling
eyes.
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