"Afraid?"
"Exactly."
"Of what?"
"Of many things, signore, many things."
"You make me curious to know what those things are."
"To tell you would be to tell the story of another man's life," replied Signor Ricordo gravely. "As you remarked, I am an Eastern, but we Easterns are not different from the Westerns in that direction. All of us have a secret chamber in our lives."
"Still," urged Sprague, "I cannot conceive of you, signore, being afraid of anything."
"I am not often in a communicative mood," said Ricordo; "I think I am to-night. Perhaps it is because I have received so much kindness. I am profoundly impressed," and here he bowed to Mr. Castlemaine and Olive, "by the fact that I, an alien, am received into the home of a representative of what is regarded as a proud and exclusive race. Never can I forget such hospitality. But one thing keeps me from communicating my thoughts: I would not willingly give pain to the signorina."
"To me, Signor Ricordo?" said Olive. "Pray, how am I concerned?"
"Directly not at all; but, as every woman is a champion of her sex, a great deal. And I would not desire even to suggest a thought that would seem to reflect on the sex to which the signorina adds so much lustre."