“Then how do you know she wishes to marry you?”
“I do not know; I just hope.”
He rolled his eyes toward the moon which was rising above the mountains on the other side of the lake, and with a deep sigh he fell back into Santa Lucia.
Constance leaned forward and scanned his face.
“Tony! Tell me your name.” There was an undertone of meaning, a note of persuasion in her voice.
She shook her head with a show of impatience.
“Your real name—your last name.”
“Yamhankeesh.”
“Oh!” she laughed. “Antonio Yamhankeesh doesn’t seem to me a very musical combination; I don’t think I ever heard anything like it before.”