“That’s what I’d do.”
“Look,” said Montoya. “People take a boy like that. They don’t know what he’s worth. They don’t know what he means. Any foreigner can flatter him. They start this Grand Hotel business, and in one year they’re through.”
“Like Algabeno,” I said.
“Yes, like Algabeno.”
“They’re a fine lot,” I said. “There’s one American woman down here now that collects bull-fighters.”
“I know. They only want the young ones.”
“Yes,” I said. “The old ones get fat.”
“Or crazy like Gallo.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s easy. All you have to do is not give him the message.”
“He’s such a fine boy,” said Montoya. “He ought to stay with his own people. He shouldn’t mix in that stuff.”