“It does hit one rather below the belt,” said Kate. “What is it?”
“Ah, do not ask me! It is my husband.”
She made a gesture of despair, and rocked herself almost into unconsciousness.
“Is Don Ramón drumming?”
“Drumming?” Doña Carlota seemed to start. “No! Oh no! He is not drumming, himself. He brought down two Indians from the north to do that.”
“Did he!” said Kate, non-committal.
But Doña Carlota was rocking in a sort of semi-consciousness. Then she seemed to pull herself together.
“I must talk to somebody, I must!” she said, suddenly straightening herself in her chair, her face creamy and creased, her soft brown hair sagging over her ears, her brown eyes oddly desperate. “May I talk to you?”
“Do!” said Kate, rather uneasy.
“You know what Ramón is doing?” she said, looking at Kate almost furtively, suspiciously.