"You've taken an early stroll this morning, sir," said this last lady.
"View the country?"
"No," said Mr. Linden, "I have been viewing the town."
"Ah! Well I call that viewing the country. Town and country, all's one here; and it makes a very pleasant sort of place. But what do you call the town, sir?—Do you drink coffee?"
"The town," said Mr. Linden, in answer to the first question—receiving his coffee-cup from Mrs. Derrick by way of answer to the second,—"means in this instance, Miss Danforth, that spot of country which is most thickly settled. Yes, ma'am—I drink coffee."
"Very bad for you, sir; don't you know it?"
"Bad for me as one of the human race? or as an individual specially marked out not to drink it?"
"Dear me!" said Miss Danforth sipping her own tea—"I don't know what you are 'marked out' for. I think it's a mistake for everybody to think he is 'marked' for something special—they set the mark themselves, and generally it don't fit."
"But the fact that a man often gets the wrong mark, by no means proves that there is no right one which belongs to him," said Mr. Linden, looking gravely at Faith as if he meant she should smile.
Faith seemed to look at the question however rather seriously, for dropping her knife and fork she asked,
"How shall a man know his mark?"