One evening, when Clarence was alone in his rooms, Mr. Trollolop entered.
"My dear Linden," said the visitor, "how are you?"
"I am, as I hope you are, very well," answered Clarence.
"The human mind," said Trollolop, taking off his greatcoat,—
"Sir Christopher Findlater and Mr. Callythorpe, sir," said the valet.
"Pshaw! What has Sir Christopher Findlater to do with the human mind?" muttered Mr. Trollolop.
Sir Christopher entered with a swagger and a laugh. "Well, old fellow, how do you do? Deuced cold this evening."
"Though it is an evening in May," observed Clarence; "but then, this cursed climate."
"Climate!" interrupted Mr. Callythorpe, "it is the best climate in the world: I am an Englishman, and I never abuse my country."
"'England, with all thy faults, I love thee still!'"