"I don't think I understand you."
"I mean here, now, on this planet, in this time. Do you like it as well as your own ... place?"
She stared up at him with wide puzzled eyes. "My own place? What other planet or time do you think I might know?"
"I don't know, Miss Jones, I just...." He was not quite sure exactly what he had been driving at, himself. "Forget it. Just a stupid idea." He leaned back and let his eye follow the shadows up the valley. A faint whiff of perfume reached him.
"Miss Jones," he said. "That's rather an awkward thing to call you. Do you have a first name?"
"Jane Jones, naturally," she said, and smiled. "What else?"
"No good," he said firmly. "I might call you Mary, that's a nice anonymous tag, and sounds better too ... or you could tell me your real name, just the first name, that wouldn't give much away."
She considered silently. "Moirta," she said finally. "My name is Moirta." She accented the syllables evenly.
"Moirta," he repeated. "Moirta." He rolled the "r" slightly, as she had done. "That's much better, it fits you now, Moirta, and it fits the cool shades of evenin'."
He looked down at her.