“I myself saw you.”
“Where could you see me from?”
“From the door, my dear.”
“But you don’t know Gálvez!” she replied, believing that Quentin must have had the news at second-hand.
“True; but I know the waiter, and I asked him: ‘Who is the gentleman talking with María Lucena?’ And he answered: ‘Señor Gálvez.’ So don’t lie about it. Very well; thanks to the beneficent influence of that gentleman friend of yours, I was on the point of being carried off to prison, or of throwing myself into the river ... yet, I do not go screeching about the place—because I do not believe that my life can be the axle of the universe.”
“Fool, more than fool!”—she shouted. “I’ll pound your brains out this very minute!”
“You’ll pound nothing; and listen, if you will.”
“What for? You’re going to lie.”
“Very well then: don’t listen.”
“I wish they’d take you to prison and keep you there all your life with your head stuck through a pillory.”