nventional style and, as if
disgusted with the amenities of civilization, threw himself, figuratively
speaking, into the sea. The daughter (the elder of the two children)
either from compassion or because women are naturally more enduring,
remained in bondage to the poet for several years, till she too seized a
chance of escape by throwing herself into the arms, the muscular arms, of
the pedestrian Fyne. This was either great luck or great sagacity. A
civil servant is, I should imagine, the last human being in the world to
preserve those traits of the cave-dweller from which she was fleeing. Her
father would never consent to see her after the marriage. Such
unforgiving selfishness is difficult to understand unless as a perverse
sort of refinement. There were also doubts as to Carleon Anthony's
complete sanity for some considerable time before he died.

Most of the above I elicited from Marlow, for all I knew of Carleon
Anthony was his unexciting but fascinating verse. Marlow assured me that
the Fyne marriage was perfectly successful and even happy, in an earnest,
unplayful fashion, being blessed besides by three healthy, active, self-
reliant children, all girls. They were all pedestrians too. Even the
youngest would wander away for miles if not restrained. Mrs. Fyne had a
ruddy out-of-doors complexion and wore blouses with a starched front like
a man's shirt, a stand-up collar and a long necktie. Marlow had made
their acquaintance one summer in the country, where they were accustomed
to take a cottage for the holidays . . .

At this point we were interrupted by Mr. Powell who declared that he must
leave us. The tide was on the turn, he announced coming away from the
window abruptly. He wanted to be on board his cutter before she swung
and of course he would sleep on board. Never slept away from the cutter
while on a cruise. He was gone in a moment, unceremoniously, but giving
us no offence and leaving behind an impression as though we had known him
for a long time. The ingenuous way he had told us of his start in life
had something to do with putting him on that footing with us. I gave no
thought to seeing him again.

Marlow expressed a confident hope of coming across him before long.

"He cruises about the mouth of the river all the summer. He will be easy
to find any week-end," he remarked ringing the bell so that we might
settle up with the waiter.

* * * * *

Later on I asked Marlow why he w