The desk, the paper, the torn books, and the broken shelves, all under a thick coat of dust.

The very dust and bones of a dead and gone business.

He looked at all these things, all that was left after so many years of work, of strife, of weariness, of discouragement, conquered so many times.

And all for what?
He stood thinking mournfully of his past life till he heard distinctly the clear voice of a child speaking amongst all this wreck, ruin, and waste.

He started with a great fear in his heart, and feverishly began to rake in the papers scattered on the floor, broke the chair into bits, splintered the drawers by banging them against the desk, and made a big heap of all that rubbish in one corner of the room.
He came out quickly, slammed the door after him, turned the key, and, taking it out, ran to the front rail of the verandah, and, with a great swing of his arm, sent the key whizzing into the river.