“Oh, you mean that it is open to the public.”
“That is so, yes, senor, and senorita. You are interested in my poor abode here—yes?”
“Oh, we were just looking around,” explained Tom. “We did peep in. No harm, I hope.”
“None at all, senor.”
“I’m from Randall,” the pitcher went on. “Miss Clinton is from Fairview.”
“Oh, you are fellow students then?”
“Not exactly—say, rather—rivals,” and Tom looked at Ruth and laughed. The blush had somewhat subsided.
“Ah, I comprehend. I am Rafello Mendez, at your service, senor.”
“My name is Parsons,” went on Tom. “Sorry I haven’t a card,” and he thought of the one he had picked up, which he had quickly thrust into his pocket at the sound of approaching footsteps.