That's
nothing very much out of the way--is it? And I didn't even know that
much of him. All I knew of him was an accident called Fyne.
At this Mr. Powell who evidently could be rebellious too turned his back
squarely on the window.
"What on earth do you mean?" he asked. "An--accident--called Fyne," he
repeated separating the words with emphasis.
Marlow was not disconcerted.
"I don't mean accident in the sense of a mishap. Not in the least. Fyne
was a good little man in the Civil Service. By accident I mean that
which happens blindly and without intelligent design. That's generally
the way a brother-in-law happens into a man's life."
Marlow's tone being apologetic and our new acquaintance having again
turned to the window I took it upon myself to say:
"You are justified. There is very little intelligent design in the
majority of marriages; but they are none the worse for that. Intelligence
leads people astray as far as passion sometimes. I know you are not a
cynic."
Marlow smiled his retrospective smile which was kind as though he bore no
grudge against people he used to know.
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