Raphael put down his pipe at the sight of her and a frank smile of welcome shone upon his flushed face.
"This is so kind of you!" he said; "who would have thought of seeing you here? I am so glad. I hope you are well. You look better." He was wringing her little gloved hand violently as he spoke.
"I feel better, too, thank you. The air is so exhilarating. I'm glad to see you're still in the land of the living. Addie has told me of your debauches of work."
"Addie is foolish. I never felt better. Come inside. Don't be afraid of walking on the papers. They're all old."
"I always heard literary people were untidy," said Esther smiling. "You must be a regular genius."
"Well, you see we don't have many ladies coming here," said Raphael deprecatingly, "though we have plenty of old women."
"It's evident you don't. Else some of them would go down on their hands and knees and never get up till this litter was tidied up a bit."
"Never mind that now, Miss Ansell. Sit down, won't you? You must be tired. Take the editorial chair. Allow me a minute." He removed some books from it.
"Is that the way you sit on the books sent in for review?" She sat down. "Dear me! It's quite comfortable. You men like comfort, even the most self-sacrificing. But where is your fighting-editor? It would be awkward if an aggrieved reader came in and mistook me for the editor, wouldn't it? It isn't safe for me to remain in this chair."
"Oh, yes it is! We've tackled our aggrieved readers for to-day," he assured her.