Her raillery met his.
"That ought to do, I should think. I suppose you have brought genealogical proofs with you?"
"I clean forgot. Won't you please get on and ride now? I feel like a false alarm, playing the invalid on you, ma'am."
"No; I'll walk. We're almost at the ranch. It's just under this hill. But there's one thing I want to ask of you as a favor."
"It's yours," he replied briefly.
She seemed to struggle with some emotion before she spoke:
"Please don't mention Valencia Valdés while you are at the ranch. I—I have reasons, sir."
"Certainly; I'll do as you prefer."
To himself he thought that there was probably a feud of some kind between the two families that might make a mention of the name unpleasant. "And that reminds me that I don't know what your name is. Mine is Muir—Richard Muir."
"And mine is Maria Yuste."