The man flashed her a momentary glance from a pair of searching gray eyes, then dropped his gaze humbly to the ground.
"_Buon giorno_," he said in glib Italian.
Constance studied him more intently.

There was something elusively familiar about his expression; she was sure she had seen him before.
"_Buon giorno_," she replied in Italian.

"You have lived in the United States ?" "_Si_, signorina." "What is your name ?" "I spik Angleesh," he observed.
"I don't care if you do speak English; I prefer Italian--what is your name ?" She repeated the question in Italian.
"_Si_, signorina," he ventured again.

An anxious look had crept to his face and he hastily turned away and commenced carrying parcels from the kitchen.

Constance looked after him, puzzled and suspicious.