No. I said I’d do nothing to alter the past. And I won’t. I’m too content, Mary. But this can’t alter it. This is nothing.
What were you going to catch the train for, John?
For London. I wasn’t at the office then. It was a business appointment. There was a man who had promised to get me a job, and I was going up to . . .
John, it may alter your whole life!
Now do listen, Mary, do listen. He never turned up. I got a letter from him apologising to me before I posted mine to him. It turned out he never meant to help me, mere meaningless affabilities. He never came to London that day at all. I should have taken the next train back. That can’t affect the future.
N-no, John. Still, I don’t like it.
What difference could it make?
Think how we met. We met at ARCHIE’s wedding. I take it one has to go to one’s brother’s wedding. It would take a pretty big change to alter that. And. you were her bridesmaid. We were bound to meet. And having once met, well, there you are. If we’d met by chance, in a train, or anything like that, well, then I admit some little change might alter it. But when we met at ARCHIE’s wedding and you were her bridesmaid, why, Mary, it’s a cert. Besides, I believe in predestination. It was our fate; we couldn’t have missed it.
No, I suppose not; still . .
I don’t like it.
O, Mary, I have so longed to catch that infernal train. Just think of it, annoyed on and off for ten years by the eight-fifteen.
I’d rather you didn’t, John.
O, John, suppose there’s a railway accident? You might be killed, and we should never meet.
There wasn’t, John? What do you mean?