Ana drew the girl toward her. Her lips trembled.
"I am as sorry as you can be, muchachita; but what can I do? What is that paper that you hold in your hand, Raquel?"
Raquel blushed crimson. Fortunately Ana's eyes were fixed upon the paper.
"I had it folded in my shoe," said Raquel. She threw the paper in the scrap basket as she spoke. "See, Ana." She held up the slipper. "Look at those pegs! They have pushed through, and my heel is really lame. I can hardly walk." Raquel limped round the room to show Ana what suffering was hers, keeping her back always to the scrap-basket. "If he would allow me to go to the town and buy some shoes!" said Raquel—Ana's espionage having created the deceit whose prophylactic she would be.
"You had better put on your slipper," said the prudent Ana. "You will wear out your stockings else."
"But how can I put on my slipper with those pegs in the heel?" asked Raquel.
"You had the paper."
"It was punched full of holes."
"Let me see it," said Ana.
"I threw it away," said Raquel. "Get me another piece of paper, for the love of God, dear Ana. My uncle does not allow me even a journal. I am indeed in prison."