She looked at him with dark eyes that appeared slightly unfocused.
"I would rather not tell you, Señor Tomas."
"You might tell me, señora. I'm a mighty good friend of yours."
The girl sighed with some comfort of her own.
"Yes, you are. You are so ... nice. But you don't want to be my confessor, do you, Señor Tomas?"
"I wish I could be. Who is your confessor, señora?"
"Father Benicio."
"Sure! it would naturally be him."
She noted his tone, with surprise and a delicate amusement in her face.