human
Yes, assented Dunwoodie, the other man. He was a young lawyer whose father had recently died in Belfast, leaving him money enough to quench a thirst which always flourished, but which never resulted in even partial disqualification, either for business or pleasure.
gpt
Yes, but Harboro is.... Say, Blanchard, did you ever know another chap like Harboro?
human
I can't say I know him very well.
gpt
Of course--that's it. Nobody does. He won't let you.
human
I don't see that, quite. I have an idea there just isn't much to know. His size and good looks mislead you. He doesn't say much, probably because he hasn't much to say. I've never thought of there being any mystery. His behavior in this affair proves that there isn't much of the right kind of stuff in him. He's had every chance. The railroad people pushed him right along into a good thing, and the women across the river--the best of them--were nice to him. I have an idea the--er--new Mrs. Harboro will recall some of us to a realization of a truth which we're rather proud of ignoring, down here on the river: I mean, that we've no business asking people about their antecedents.
gpt
I figure it out differently. I think he's really a big chap. He won all the fellows over in the railroad offices--and he was pushed over the heads of some of them when he was given that chief clerkship. And then the way he's got of standing up to the General Manager and the other magnates. And you'll notice that if you ever ask him a question he'll give you an answer that sets you to thinking. He seems to work things out for himself. His mind doesn't just run along the channel of traditions. I like him all the better because he's not given to small talk. If there was anything worth while to talk about, I'll bet you'd always find him saying something worth while.
human
You're right about his not being strong about traditions. There's the matter of his marriage. Maybe he knows all about Sylvia--and doesn't care. He _must_ know about her.
gpt
Don't make a mistake on that score. I've seen them together. He reveres her. You can imagine his wanting to spread a cloak for her at every step--as if she were too pure to come into contact with the earth.
human
But good God, man! There's a path to her back door, worn there by fellows who would tremble like a colt in the presence of a lady.
gpt
Don't say a path. It must be just a trail--a more or less indistinct trail.
human
It's a _path_, I tell you!