At this the bearded gentleman turned so pale that his interlocutor cut short his remarks. The trio continued their conversation in ordinary tones.
All at once the old man broke out into a howl.
“Then he can’t be a respectable person!” he cried.
“Why not?” asked the woman.
“Because he can’t. He must be a carpenter, a street-sweeper, a thief, or the son of a bad mother, for I can’t see what reason a respectable person can have for getting up in the morning.”
Manuel and Vidal had their supper. Shortly afterward the girl and her three escorts rose from their places.
“And now a fellow goes home,” grumbled he of the red whiskers in a funereal tone, “makes his bed, gets in, lights a cigarette, drinks a glass of water, urinates and falls asleep. Life is disgusting.”
As the quartet went into the street, Vidal followed after.
“I’m going to find out who she is,” he explained to Manuel. “See you tomorrow.”
“So long.”