He felt soothed and happy, as if some gentle and invisible hand had removed from his soul the burden of his body.

In another second he seemed to float out into a cool brightness where there was no such thing as memory or pain.

Delicious.
His eyes closed--opened--closed again.
"Almayer!" With a sudden jerk of his whole body he sat up, grasping the front rail with both his hands, and blinked stupidly.
"What?
What's that ?" he muttered, looking round vaguely.
"Here! Down here, Almayer." Half rising in his chair, Almayer looked over the rail at the foot of the verandah, and fell back with a low whistle of astonishment.
"A ghost, by heavens!" he exclaimed softly to himself.
"Will you listen to me ?" went on the husky voice from the courtyard.
"May I come up, Almayer ?" Almayer stood up and leaned over the rail.

"Don't you dare," he said, in a voice subdued but distinct.

"Don't you dare! The child sleeps here.
And I don't want to hear you--or speak to you either." "You must listen to me! It's something important." "Not to me, surely." "Yes! To you.