“At the home of a ragpicker where I was a servant.”
“What’s that ragpicker’s name?”
“Señor Custodio.”
“Is it you who are responsible for her being a prostitute?”
“Not I, sir.”
“When you made her acquaintance, was she already a public woman?”
“No, sir. When I made her acquaintance she was a modiste; a man took her away from home; when I met her for the second time, she was already on the streets.”
As he spoke these words, Manuel’s voice trembled and the tears fought to issue from his eyes.
The judge contemplated him coldly.