The hurt nigger moaned feebly somewhere near by, and then fetched a deep sigh that made me mend my pace away from there. I felt a hand introducing itself under my arm. ‘My dear sir,’ said the fellow, ‘I don’t want to be misunderstood, and especially by you, who will see

Mr. Kurtz long before I can have that pleasure. I wouldn’t like him to get a false idea of my disposition.⁠ ⁠…’

“I let him run on, this papier-mâché