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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Psch ... yes," and El Conejo looked at Manuel with the reserved mien of a person concealing a mystery. "You've known her since she was a kid, haven't you?" "Yes. But I've known plenty of other girls, too." "Has she a sweetheart?" "She must have. Every woman has a sweetheart unless she's mighty ugly." "And who is Justa's fellow?"
They were discussing one of the girls of the neighbourhood who had run off with a wealthy horse-dealer, a married man with a family. "She did wisely," declared Leandra, draining a glass of wine. "If she didn't know he was married...." "What's the difference?" retorted Leandra with an air of unconcern. "Plenty. How would you like a woman to carry off your husband?" Salome asked her sister. "Psch!"
"In some shelter or other." "All right, then. But what do you eat?" "Whatever I'm given." "And do you manage to do well?" Either the foundling did not understand the question or it appeared quite silly to him, for he merely shrugged his shoulders. Manuel continued his curious interrogatory. "Aren't your feet cold?" "No." "And don't you do anything?" "Psch! ... whatever turns up.
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