The difference is brought about by Marlow, who prides himself on being both cynical and outside the absurdities of everyday life, and, I think, on respecting the things he values more than others. Marlow contributes sexism in one of the ways that irritates me the most: intrusive remarks about the limitations of women. This sort of thing always seems like the author was so full of their tiresome opinions that they simply couldn't keep them to themselves long enough to write a story. In this case, of course, I was only able to take a dislike to Marlow rather than Conrad, as Marlow is, at least nominally, a character rather than an author. I can't say I have a particular fondness for Marlow, but filtering the story through him does give it a particular flavor.
Flora, the heroine of a ruined and disgraced financier, is a bit like a Thomas Hardy heroine to begin with, in the sense that it is her tragic difficultness that makes her strangely alluring, with her white little face and sense of damage and things left unsaid. Conrad is more ironic about it though and doesn't intend to see it through. She's really just a nice girl who's had a hard time. Dependent on menial spare woman type positions gained through the charitable interposition of an earnest couple, the drama of the first part of the story turns on her engagement to the brother of the earnest woman. His intervention in her life is made to represent her salvation, but she can only barely accept it and it is greeted with horror by his sister and brother-in-law. The second part of the story turns on the postponement of the salvation, as Flora and her husband, a captain, are joined on his ship by Flora's ex-convict father.
I didn't enjoy a lot of the bit on the ship with Flora and Anthony and de Barral all almost hypnotized into stasis by each other, or at least de Barral hypnotizing the other two. It clarified what I didn't like about Heart of Darkness; the effect of stagnation. I actually find descriptions of emotional stalemate and apathy viscerally suffocating when the atmosphere is really captured, and Conrad seems to have his own version which almost disappears in nullness. So I was pleased enough, if a little bemused, when this apparently insoluble situation is dissolved very quickly at the end.
I very much enjoyed a lot of the writing and will try something else by Conrad.