said nervously.
“Do!” he replied, putting down his pen and rising.
There was only one chair—he was offering it her, but she sat down on the unmade bed, as if asserting her natural right. And in the same way she glanced at his naked breast—as if asserting her natural right.
“I am going with Cipriano after breakfast,” she said.
“Yes, so you said.”
“The boys will be home in three weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want to see them?”
“If they want to see me.”
“I am sure they do.”
“Then bring them here.”
“Do you think it is pleasant for me?” she said, clasping her hands.
“You do not make it pleasant for me, Carlota.”
“How can I? You know I think you are wrong. When I listened to you last night—there is something so beautiful in it all—and yet so