The General:
I like men of business. We have a common language: Money. You bring the ammunitions...
[He shrugs amiably]
The General:
I buy.
Lord Jim:
They're gone. Blown up. Exploded.
The General:
[Knocks the wooden bowl from Jim's hand]
One explosion.
[He strokes the shaven sides of his head in frustration and puts his hands on his hips impatiently]
The General:
You bring nine separate barrels of powder. So there should be many separate explosions. Correct?
Lord Jim:
[Weakly]
Correct.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:31
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