“At least I suppose, for her name was just the same as yours, only, at least, one letter difference between them: yours is Linden I see, sir; hers was Minden. Am I right in my conjecture that you are related to her?”
“Sir,” answered Clarence, gravely, “notwithstanding the similarity of our names, we are not related.”
“Very extraordinary,” replied the stranger.
“Very,” repeated Linden.
“I had the honour, sir,” said the brown gentleman, “to make Mrs. Minden many presents of value, and I should have been very happy to have obliged you in the same manner, had you been in any way connected with that worthy gentlewoman.”
“You are very kind,” said Linden, “you are very kind; and since such were your intentions, I believe I must have been connected with Mrs. Minden. At all events, as you justly observe, there is only the difference of a letter between our names, a discrepancy too slight, I am sure, to alter your benevolent intentions.”
Here the waiter returned with the slippers.
The stranger slowly unbuttoned his gaiters. “Sir,” said he to Linden, “we will renew our conversation presently.”
No sooner had the generous friend of Mrs. Minden deposited his feet in their easy tenements than he quitted the room. “Pray,” said Linden to the waiter, when he had ordered his simple repast, “who is that gentleman in brown?”
“Mr. Brown,” replied the waiter.