The newcomer stopped short on the threshold as she caught sight of a
stranger, and she glanced with sharp inquisitiveness at Copplestone as he
rose from his chair.
"Oh!--I supposed you were alone, Mrs. Wooler," she exclaimed. "You
usually are, you know, so I came in anyhow--sorry!"
"Come in," said the landlady. "Don't go, Mr. Copplestone. This is Miss
Adela Chatfield. Your father has just been to see this gentleman,
Addie--perhaps he told you?"
Addie Chatfield dropped into a chair at Mrs. Wooler's side, and looked
the stranger over slowly and carefully."
"No," she answered. "My father didn't tell me--he doesn't tell me
anything about his own affairs. All his talk is about mine--the iniquity
of them, and so on."
She showed a fine set of even white teeth as she made this remark, and
her eyes sought Copplestone's again with a direct challenge. Copplestone
looked calmly at her, half-smiling; he was beginning, in his youthful
innocence, to think that he already understood this type of young woman.
And seeing him smile, Addie also smiled.
"Now I wonder whatever my father wanted to see you about?" she said, with
a strong accent on the personal pronoun. "For you don't look his sort,
and he certainly isn't yours--unless you're deceptive."
"Perhaps I am," responded Copplestone, still keeping his eyes on her.
"Your father wanted to see me about the strange disappearance of Mr.
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