to vulgar contact.
So Kate pinned the muslin over the brown shoulders, wondering again at the strange, uncanny softness of the dark skin, the heaviness of the black hair. Teresa’s family, the Romeros, had been in Mexico since the early days of the Conquest.
Teresa wanted long sleeves.
“My arms are so thin!” she murmured, hiding her slender brown arms with a sort of shame. “They are not beautiful like yours.”
Kate was a strong, full-developed woman of forty, with round, strong white arms.
“No!” she said to Teresa. “Your arms are not thin: they are exactly right for your figure, and pretty and young and brown.”
“But make the sleeves long, to the wrist,” pleaded Teresa.
And Kate did so, realizing it became the other woman’s nature better.
“The men here don’t like little thin women,” said Teresa, wistfully.
“One doesn’t care what