"It is of
no consequence. White women have their customs, as you know Tuan, having
travelled much, as you say. However, it is late; we will finish our talk
to-morrow."
Dain bent low trying to convey in a last glance towards the girl the bold
expression of his overwhelming admiration. The next minute he was
shaking Almayer's hand with grave courtesy, his face wearing a look of
stolid unconcern as to any feminine presence. His men filed off, and he
followed them quickly, closely attended by a thick-set, savage-looking
Sumatrese he had introduced before as the commander of his brig. Nina
walked to the balustrade of the verandah and saw the sheen of moonlight
on the steel spear-heads and heard the rhythmic jingle of brass anklets
as the men moved in single file towards the jetty. The boat shoved off
after a little while, looming large in the full light of the moon, a
black shapeless mass in the slight haze hanging over the water. Nina
fancied she could distinguish the graceful figure of the trader standing
erect in the stern sheets, but in a little while all the outlines got
blurred, confused, and soon disappeared in the folds of white vapour
shrouding the middle of the river.
Almayer had approached his daughter, and leaning with both arms over the
rail, was looking moodily down on the heap of rubbish and broken bottles
at the foot of the verandah.
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