“I can understand that,” Alice returned, recovering her self-command. “You’re the ranger, I suppose? I told my friend here that you might return.”
“I’m mighty glad I did,” he said, heartily.
“Thank you; you’re very kind.”
He bent a keen glare upon her. “What’s your name?”
“Alice Mansfield.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Mrs. Adams.”
“Are you a missis, too?”
She hesitated. This was impertinent, but then she herself was an intrusive guest. “No,” she answered, “I am not married.”
“Where are you from?”