"That is because you heard me called Ishmael and saw me among my kith
and kin," said the man with a tired smile. "Don't tell Agnes."

"Why should I? It's none of my business if you chose to masquerade as a
gypsy."

"I masquerade as Sir Hubert Pine," retorted the millionaire, slipping
off the stone to sprawl full-length on the grass. "I am truly and really
one of the lot in the camp yonder."

"Do they know you by your Gentile name?"

Pine laughed. "You are picking up the gypsy lingo, Miss Greeby. No.
Every one on the road takes me for what I am, Ishmael Hearne, and my
friends in the civilized world think I am Sir Hubert Pine, a millionaire
with colored blood in his veins."

"How do you come to have a double personality and live a double life?"

"Oh, that is easily explained, and since you have found me out it is
just as well that I should explain, so that you may keep my secret, at
all events from my wife, as she would be horrified to think that she had
married a gypsy. You promise?"

"Of course. I shall say nothing. But perhaps she would prefer to know
that she had married a gypsy rather than a nigger."

"What polite things you say," said Pine sarcastically. "However, I can't
afford to quarrel with you. As you are rich, I can't even bribe you to