"What does reason want to know more, for a cup of tea?"
"But you have declared once to-night that I am not Reason," said Mr. Linden laughing. "For instance—I once made the sudden acquaintance of a particular person, who made as sudden an impression on my mind,—after those three minutes I should have known her by sight (like cream) to the end of my life. But I went on trying experiments—(as one might taste successive drops of cream) finding out more and more sweetness each time; until (like cream again) I discovered that she was perfectly indispensable to my cup of tea!"
Faith bowed her glad little head, laughing, though feeling much deeper was at work.
"After this," she said, "I shall always be greatly at a loss what you are thinking of when you are looking at me."
"Will your reflections be carried on with such a face?" said Mr. Linden. "Do you remember that afternoon, Faith?—when I so nearly laid hold of you—and you wanted to laugh, and did not dare?"
"What afternoon?"—
"The one wherein I first had the pleasure of seeing you. How demurely you eyed me!—and wondered in your little sensible heart what sort of a person I could possibly be!"
"How did you know I wondered?" said Faith colouring.
"By your very gentle, modest, and fearful examinations, your evident musings over my words, and the bright look now and then that told of progress."
Faith laughed.