XXI
THE MISCHIEF OF A FIANCÉ
The lady proved to be Alice Endicott. She came in without shyness or embarrassment, with her usual air of quiet refinement, and although she must have seen the surprise in Dick's face, she took no notice of it. Alice was one of those women so free from self-consciousness, so entirely without affectations, yet so rare in her simple dignity, that it was hard to conceive her as ever seeming to be out of place. She was so superior to surroundings that her environment did not matter.
"Good-morning, Mr. Fairfield," she said. "I should apologize for intruding. I hope I am not disturbing your work."
"Good-morning," he responded. "I am not at work just now. Sit down, please."
She took the chair he offered, and came at once to her errand.
"I came from Miss Calthorpe," she said.
"Miss Calthorpe?" he repeated.
"Yes. She thought she ought not to write to you again; and she asked me to come for her letters; those she wrote before she knew who you were."