"Perhaps."
Sabina turned over the book she still held, and looked at the back of it.
"Exactly," continued Malipieri. "But I do not mean that what we are doing now is so dreadfully unconventional after all. Thank heaven, manners have changed since I was a boy, and even in Italy we may be allowed to talk together a few minutes without being suspected of planning a runaway marriage. I wanted to see you alone because I wish you to do something very much more 'improper,' as society calls it."
Sabina looked up with innocent and inquiring eyes, but said nothing in answer.
"I have found something," he said. "I should like you to see it."
"There is nothing so very terrible in that," replied Sabina, looking at him steadily.
"The world would think differently. But if you will trust me the world need never know anything about it. You will have to come alone. That is the difficulty."
"Alone?" Sabina repeated the word, and instinctively drew herself up a little.
"Yes."
A short silence followed, and Malipieri waited for her to speak, but she hesitated. In years, she was but lately out of childhood, but the evil of the world had long been near her in her mother's house, and she knew well enough that if she did what he asked, and if it were known, her reputation would be gone. She was a little indignant at first, and was on the point of showing it, but as she met his eyes once more she felt certain that he meant no offence to her.