“What is the best road to Defiance?”
“Well,” he replied, with quite an air, as who should say, “now here is a pleasant opportunity and diversion”—"There are two of them. One runs to the north of here, a hard, macadam road, and the other follows the canal and the river most of the way. Personally, I would choose the canal. It isn’t quite as good a road, but the scenery is so much better. You have the river nearly always in view to your left. To the right the scenery is very attractive." He raised his hand in a slightly oratorical way.
“By the way, if you will pardon me, you are a lawyer, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose I might lay claim to that distinction,” he replied, with a faintly dry smile. “I practice law here.”
His coat was as brown as old brass, nearly, his shoes thick and unpolished, his trousers baggy. The soft hat he wore was pulled down indifferently over his eyes.
“I ask,” I said, “because years ago, in Warsaw, Indiana, I knew a lawyer who looked very much like you.”
“Indeed! I’ve never been in Warsaw, but I’ve heard of it. We have people here that go to Winona Lake. That’s right near there, isn’t it?”
“Practically the same place,” I replied.
“Well, when there are so many people in the world, I suppose some of us must look alike,” he continued.
“Yes,” I replied, “I’ve met my counterpart more than once.”