Chapter 34

           Marlowswunghislegsout,gotupquickly,andstaggeredalittle,asthoughhehadbeensetdownafterarushthroughspace.Heleanedhisbackagainstthebalustradeandfacedadisorderedarrayoflongcanechairs.Thebodiesproneinthemseemedstartledoutoftheirtorporbyhismovement.Oneortwosatupasifalarmed;hereandthereacigarglowedyet;Marlowlookedatthemallwiththeeyesofamanreturningfromtheexcessiveremotenessofadream.Athroatwascleared;acalmvoiceencouragednegligently,‘Well.’

           ‘Nothing,’saidMarlowwithaslightstart.‘Hehadtoldher—that’sall.Shedidnotbelievehim—nothingmore.Astomyself,Idonotknowwhetheritbejust,proper,decentformetorejoiceortobesorry.Formypart,IcannotsaywhatIbelieved—indeedIdon’tknowtothisday,andnevershallprobably.Butwhatdidthepoordevilbelievehimself?Truthshallprevail—don’tyouknow.Magnaestveritaset...Yes,whenitgetsachance.Thereisalaw,nodoubt—andlikewisealawregulatesyourluckinthethrowingofdice.ItisnotJusticetheservantofmen,butaccident,hazard,Fortune—theallyofpatientTime—thatholdsanevenandscrupulousbalance.Bothofushadsaidtheverysamething.Didwebothspeakthetruth—oroneofusdid—orneither?...’

           Marlowpaused,crossedhisarmsonhisbreast,andinachangedtone—

           ‘Shesaidwelied.

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