"Enough. You shall be protected," he said soothingly.
Again the sound of Almayer's voice was heard, and again interrupting
their talk, they listened to the confused but loud utterance coming in
bursts of unequal strength, with unexpected pauses and noisy repetitions
that made some words and sentences fall clear and distinct on their ears
out of the meaningless jumble of excited shoutings emphasised by the
thumping of Almayer's fist upon the table. On the short intervals of
silence, the high complaining note of tumblers, standing close together
and vibrating to the shock, lingered, growing fainter, till it leapt up
again into tumultuous ringing, when a new idea started a new rush of
words and brought down the heavy hand again. At last the quarrelsome
shouting ceased, and the thin plaint of disturbed glass died away into
reluctant quietude.
Babalatchi and Mrs. Almayer had listened curiously, their bodies bent and
their ears turned towards the passage. At every louder shout they nodded
at each other with a ridiculous affectation of scandalised propriety, and
they remained in the same attitude for some time after the noise had
ceased.
"This is the devil of gin," whispered Mrs. Almayer. "Yes; he talks like
that sometimes when there is nobody to hear him.
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