"I ought to be grateful to you for that part of your action in the matter, and—I am."
She seemed to speak with an effort, but Sprague was evidently satisfied.
"You have chosen a beautiful place to live in, Miss Castlemaine," he said; "and hundreds of people are grateful because of what you have done. I hardly feel justified in benefiting by—shall I call it your hospitality?—but I really wanted to see you again."
"Yes, it is a beautiful neighbourhood," said Olive; "and I hope you will enjoy your stay here."
"Thank you, I am sure I shall," replied Sprague. He had got through the painful part of his conversation—clumsily, it is true; but still it was over, and now he felt a real pleasure in thinking that for the next few days he would be living in close proximity to the woman whom he had once asked to be his wife.
"What do you think of Signor Ricordo?" he went on. "Striking-looking fellow, isn't he?"
"Yes," replied Olive.
"Do you know I've played golf with him twice, and I can't make him out. Perhaps it is because of his Eastern mode of speech, but he always makes me think of mysteries. When I saw him first he made me think of vampires, and although that feeling has gone, I am not sure that I like him."
"I should think he is a very remarkable man," said Olive evasively.
"He is mysterious, at all events," said Sprague. "How beautiful the park looks in the moonlight!"