"What is a good sort of man, Miss Faith?"
The old horse was walking quietly along the sandy road, and the smell of the salt water was becoming pleasantly perceptible.
"I suppose I mean by it," said Faith thoughtfully, "a man who is not very good, but who is on the good side of things."
"I don't call that a good sort," said Mr. Linden,—then looking round with a little smile he said, "You ought to say 'sort o' good.'"
Faith looked serious and as if she felt half rebuked.
"But," she said, "you would not call that a bad sort?"
"Then you mean that he is in the same road with what you call the best people, only not so far advanced?"
"No," said Faith doubtfully, "I don't mean so much as that.—I don't think Mr. Simlins is in the same road with you."
"How many best roads are there to the same place? As for instance—does it matter which of these two I take to the shore?"
"Only one leads to the shore," said Faith.