left the bank and floated down the river, probably in search of more cheerful surroundings; even the flock of geese--"the only geese on the east coast"-- departed somewhere, preferring the unknown dangers of the bush to the desolation of their old home.

As time went on the grass grew over the black patch of ground where the old house used to stand, and nothing remained to mark the place of the dwelling that had sheltered Almayer's young hopes, his foolish dream of splendid future, his awakening, and his despair.
Ford did not often visit Almayer, for visiting Almayer was not a pleasant task.

At first he used to respond listlessly to the old seaman's boisterous inquiries about his health; he even made efforts to talk, asking for news in a voice that made it perfectly clear that no news from this world had any interest for him.

Then gradually he became more silent--not sulkily--but as if he was forgetting how to speak.

He used also to hide in the darkest rooms of the house, where Ford had to seek him out guided by the patter of the monkey galloping before him.