“What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?” he inquired.
“I don’t remember, Tony, but I don’t want to talk any more; I’m tired.”
“You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep.”
“Tony, please behave yourself. I’m simply too tired to make you do it.”
He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it for two—three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance.
“Tony,” she said, “don’t you think you are forgetting your place?”
“No, signorina, I am just learning it.”
“Let go my hand.”
He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath.
“Tony! I shall be angry with you.”