"What am I supposed to say to that?"
"Nothing. Go ahead, finish your drink, I want to talk to a man, not a zombie."
Durham finished it angrily. "If you brought me all the way here to shake your finger at me, I'm going home again." That was what he said aloud. Inside, he wanted to get down and embrace Hawtree's knees and beg him for another chance.
"I brought you here," said Hawtree, "to offer you a job. If you do it, it might mean that certain doors could be opened for you again."
Durham sat perfectly still. For a moment he did not trust himself to speak. Then he said, "I'll take it."
Certain doors. That's what I've waited for, living like a bum, dodging creditors, hocking my shoes, waiting for those doors to open again.
He tried not to show how he felt, sitting stiffly at ease in the chair, but a red flush began to burn in his cheeks and his hands moved. About time. About time, damn you, Hawtree, that you remembered me.
Damn you, oh damn you for making me sweat so long!
Hawtree said, "Did you ever hear of Nanta Dik?"