Manuel went out and was back in a jiffy. They breakfasted together.
“Do you want anything more?” asked Manuel.
“No, nothing.”
“Don’t you intend to return before night?”
“No.”
“You have so many things to do?”
“Plenty, I assure you. At about this time, after having invariably translated ten pages, I go to the Calle Serrano to give a lesson in English; from there I take the tram and walk to the end of the Calle de Mendizábal, return to the heart of the town, go into the publishing office and correct the proofs of my translation. I leave at noon, go to my restaurant, eat, take coffee, write my letters to England and at three I’m in Fischer’s Academy. At half past four I go to the Protestant colegio. From six to eight I stroll around, at nine I have supper, at ten I’m in the newspaper office and at midnight in bed.”
“What an awful day’s work! But you must be earning a fortune,” commented Manuel.
“Eighty to ninety duros.”