“Señora Patrocinio,” Quentin stammered, “send me away and take me for an idiot if my request seems stupid to you. I have come to ask for money.”
“Have you been gambling?”
“No.”
“How much do you need?”
“Seventy dollars.”
“Come, that’s not much. Follow me.”
Quentin and the old woman climbed to the second floor and entered a room which contained a large bed. Señora Patrocinio took a key from her pocket, and opened a cabinet. She clawed inside of it with her deformed hands until she brought forth a bulging purse. She opened it, removed from it a roll of coins wrapped in paper, broke it over the bed, and scattered several gold-pieces upon the coverlet. The old woman counted out twenty twenty-peseta pieces and offered them to Quentin.
“Take them,” she said.
“But you’re giving me too much, Señora Patrocinio.”
“Bah! They won’t weigh you down.”