"You're living in a boarding-house, aren't you?"
"No, sir."
"Where, then?"
"In Calle Ballesta. I've rented a little inside room, on the fourth floor. It costs me thirteen pesetas a month, and I eat at a little tavern on the same street."
"I see you know how to rub along. You can save money, if you're willing to fight with landladies. After you've got thoroughly used to Madrid, nothing can make you ever go back home. Madrid is wonderful! With money, a clever man can have all kinds of amusement here."
Don Manuel added, using that confidential air with which fools and parvenus try to impress people they think beneath them:
"See here! You're not a boy, any more. And I—hang it all!—you can't call me old, yet. I don't see my friend showing up, anywhere, so we can have a little talk. I've got—I've got something bothering me. You understand?"
Enrique nodded.
"You know her? Alicia Pardo?"
"No, sir."