He gave her one long look, flung her hands aside, and had vaulted the wall and was gone himself one moment later.
Pepita stood still with clinched hands dropped at her side, staring with wide fierce eyes down the white moonlit road.
The next evening José came home from his work later than usual. He came down the road with a drooping head and a slow and heavy step. When he sat down to his food he ate but little, and as he bent over his soup he heard Jovita scolding.
“It is gone,” she was saying. “You took it, and have thrown it away.”
“Was it not mine?” said Pepita. “It was mine. I cared nothing for it, and have done what I chose with it.”
José lifted his head and listened.
“What has happened?” he asked.
“She has thrown away the devisa, which I had saved,” answered Jovita. “I laid it away, and she has taken it. What harm did it do her that it should lie out of her sight in peace?”
“Did you do that?” José said to Pepita.
“Was it meant for her?” said Pepita. “I told you he ought to have thrown it to her and not to me.”