Pine evidently saw this, for he frowned.
"You must have guessed long ago that I was a gypsy," he snapped restlessly.
"Indeed I didn't, nor, I should think, did any one else.

I thought you had nigger blood in you, and I have heard people say that you came from the West Indies.

But what does it matter if you are a gypsy?
There is no disgrace in being one." "No disgrace, certainly," rejoined the millionaire, leaning forward and linking his hands together, while he stared at the ground.

"I am proud of having the gentle Romany blood.

All the same I prefer the West Indian legend, for I don't want any of my civilized friends to know that I am Ishmael Hearne, born and bred in a tent." "Well, that's natural, Pine.