“The condition of the house....”
“Is not satisfactory, that’s certain; but to respond....”
“That’s what I think.”
“We’ll speak of that some other day.”
“I’m in the way here,” thought Quentin, and he went into the store and sat down upon a bench, waiting for Palomares to appear.
Palomares went into the back room, and at the end of a short time, came out and said to Quentin:
“Well, my lad, it can’t be done.”
Quentin went into the street cursing his stepfather and the old cronies who were with him for a trio of usurers of the worst kind. He was walking along the streets wondering how he was to get the money, when he remembered the offer Señora Patrocinio had made to him the night he and Don Gil Sabadía were in her house.
“Let’s go there,” he said to himself. “We’ll see if she makes good her offer.”
He made his way to Los Tejares where Señora Patrocinio lived. The door of the house was open. Quentin knocked, and, as no one answered, he walked in.