"It's a matter of habit," said Gabriel.
"I'm sure you're right. I get more out of my smoking than I do out of my reading."
"When I first came, I read till late every night," Gabriel said.
"I remember how late your light used to burn."
"Well, my eyes aren't up to that kind of reading any more," said Gabriel, regretfully, and fingered the bow of his glasses.
In a loud voice, Salvador called Raul from the doorway of the veranda.
"Tomás is hurt," he said, as if reporting the weather.
"Which Tomás?" asked Raul, laying down his book. Petaca had two, little and big, both stable workers.
"Little Tomás."
"What happened?" asked Raul, rising.