The odd thing was that Tyson was unaware of this.
He seemed to have no doubt whatever that his marriage with the perfect woman had been arranged for in heaven, though somehow it had failed to come off on earth.

A delusion not uncommon with men of Tyson's stamp.
"I believe," said Tyson, "it's a what d'ye call 'em--category--innate idea--_a priori_ form of the masculine intelligence.

I've never seen a man yet who hadn't it somewhere about him.

And I've seen most sorts.
Terrific bounders, too, some of them." A year ago Stanistreet would have laughed at this, now he smiled.
Tyson lay back in his chair and fell into a waking dream.

He spoke slowly, in the curious muffled voice of the dreamer.