It growled out contempt for all associated notions of roaring seas with concise energy, then went on-- "I--no such foolishness--looking at the rocks out there--more likely call to mind an office--I used to look in sometimes at one time--office in London--one of them small streets behind Cannon Street Station.

.

.

" He was very deliberate; not jerky, only fragmentary; at times profane.
"That's a rather remote connection," I observed, approaching him.
"Connection?
To Hades with your connections.

It was an accident." "Still," I said, "an accident has its backward and forward connections, which, if they could be set forth--" Without moving he seemed to lend an attentive ear.
"Aye! Set forth.