"Heart of Darkness"
by Joseph Conrad

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     The soles were tied with knotted strings sandalwise under his bare feet. I rooted out an old pair, at which he looked with admiration before tucking it under his left arm. One of his pockets (bright red) was bulging with cartridges, from the other (dark blue) peeped "Towson's Inquiry," etc., etc. He seemed to think himself excellently well equipped for a renewed encounter with the wilderness.

     "Ah! I'll never, never meet such a man again. You ought to have heard him recite poetry -- his own, too, it was, he told me. Poetry!" He rolled his eyes at the recollection of these delights. "Oh, he enlarged my mind!"


     "Good-bye," said I. He shook hands and vanished in the night. Sometimes I ask myself whether I had ever really seen him -- whether it was possible to meet such a phenomenon! . . .

     When I woke up shortly after midnight his warning came to my mind with its hint of danger that seemed, in the starred darkness, real enough to make me get up for the purpose of having a look round.

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