“Well!” Mr. Wilder ejaculated. “That is the first—” “Italian” he started to say, but he caught the word before it was out “—donkey-driver I ever saw refuse money.”
Lieutenant di Ferara raised his shoulders.
“Machè! The fellow is too honest; you do well to watch him.” There was a world of disgust in his tone.
Constance glanced after the retreating figure and laughed.
“Tony!” she called.
He kept on; she raised her voice.
“Mr. Yamhankeesh.”
He paused.
“You call, signorina?”
“Be sure and be here by half past six on Friday morning; we must start early.”