"
Imagine poor, simple Davidson being addressed in such terms alongside
an abandoned, decaying wharf jutting out of tropical bush. He had
never heard anybody speak like this before; certainly not Heyst, whose
conversation was concise, polite, with a faint ring of playfulness in
the cultivated tones of his voice.
"He's gone mad," Davidson thought to himself.
But, looking at the physiognomy above him on the wharf, he was obliged
to dismiss the notion of common, crude lunacy. It was truly most unusual
talk. Then he remembered--in his surprise he had lost sight of it--that
Heyst now had a girl there. This bizarre discourse was probably the
effect of the girl. Davidson shook off the absurd feeling, and asked,
wishing to make clear his friendliness, and not knowing what else to
say:
"You haven't run short of stores or anything like that?"
Heyst smiled and shook his head:
"No, no. Nothing of the kind. We are fairly well off here. Thanks, all
the same. If I have taken the liberty to detain you, it is I not from
any uneasiness for myself and my--companion. The person I was thinking
of when I made up my mind to invoke your assistance is Mrs. Schomberg."
"I have talked with her," interjected Davidson.
"Oh! You? Yes, I hoped she would find means to--"
"But she didn't tell me much," interrupted Davidson, who was not averse
from hearing something--he hardly knew what.
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