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"
I
don
’
t
know
.
But
I
’
m
afraid
.
"
I
shrugged
my
shoulders
.
For
all
his
pain
,
Dirk
Stroeve
remained
a
ridiculous
object
.
He
might
have
excited
sympathy
if
he
had
grown
worn
and
thin
.
He
did
nothing
of
the
kind
.
He
remained
fat
,
and
his
round
,
red
cheeks
shone
like
ripe
apples
.
He
had
great
neatness
of
person
,
and
he
continued
to
wear
his
spruce
black
coat
and
his
bowler
hat
,
always
a
little
too
small
for
him
,
in
a
dapper
,
jaunty
manner
.
He
was
getting
something
of
a
paunch
,
and
sorrow
had
no
effect
on
it
.
He
looked
more
than
ever
like
a
prosperous
bagman
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It
is
hard
that
a
man
’
s
exterior
should
tally
so
little
sometimes
with
his
soul
.
Dirk
Stroeve
had
the
passion
of
Romeo
in
the
body
of
Sir
Toby
Belch
.
He
had
a
sweet
and
generous
nature
,
and
yet
was
always
blundering
;
a
real
feeling
for
what
was
beautiful
and
the
capacity
to
create
only
what
was
commonplace
;
a
peculiar
delicacy
of
sentiment
and
gross
manners
.
He
could
exercise
tact
when
dealing
with
the
affairs
of
others
,
but
none
when
dealing
with
his
own
.
What
a
cruel
practical
joke
old
Nature
played
when
she
flung
so
many
contradictory
elements
together
,
and
left
the
man
face
to
face
with
the
perplexing
callousness
of
the
universe
.
I
did
not
see
Strickland
for
several
weeks
.
I
was
disgusted
with
him
,
and
if
I
had
had
an
opportunity
should
have
been
glad
to
tell
him
so
,
but
I
saw
no
object
in
seeking
him
out
for
the
purpose
.
I
am
a
little
shy
of
any
assumption
of
moral
indignation
;
there
is
always
in
it
an
element
of
self
-
satisfaction
which
makes
it
awkward
to
anyone
who
has
a
sense
of
humour
.
It
requires
a
very
lively
passion
to
steel
me
to
my
own
ridicule
.
There
was
a
sardonic
sincerity
in
Strickland
which
made
me
sensitive
to
anything
that
might
suggest
a
pose
.
But
one
evening
when
I
was
passing
along
the
Avenue
de
Clichy
in
front
of
the
cafe
which
Strickland
frequented
and
which
I
now
avoided
,
I
ran
straight
into
him
.
He
was
accompanied
by
Blanche
Stroeve
,
and
they
were
just
going
to
Strickland
’
s
favourite
corner
.
"
Where
the
devil
have
you
been
all
this
time
?
"
said
he
.
"
I
thought
you
must
be
away
.
"
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His
cordiality
was
proof
that
he
knew
I
had
no
wish
to
speak
to
him
.
He
was
not
a
man
with
whom
it
was
worth
while
wasting
politeness
.
"
No
,
"
I
said
;
"
I
haven
’
t
been
away
.
"
"
Why
haven
’
t
you
been
here
?
"