They came here and bore us stiff with their prayers and sermons.
What we need isn't sermons, but hard cash and plenty of it."
"That's what, man ... the dough,--that's what we want."
"And all the rest is nothing but ... chatter and chin music....
Anybody can give advice. When it comes to bread, though, not a sign of
it."
"So say I!"
The ladies came out, prayer-books in hand; the old beggar-women set
off in pursuit and harassed them with entreaties.
Manuel looked everywhere for the student; at last he caught sight of
him with Don Telmo's niece. The blonde turned around to look at him,
and then stepped into a coach. Roberto saluted her and the coach
rolled off.
Manuel and Roberto returned by the San Isidro highway.
The sky was still overcast; the air dry; the procession of beggars was
advancing in the direction of Madrid. Before they reached the Toledo
Bridge, at the intersection of the San Isidro highway and the
Extremadura cartroad, Roberto and Manuel entered a very large tavern.
Roberto ordered a bottle of beer.
"Do you live in the same house where the shoe shop is?" asked Roberto.
"No. I live over in the Paseo de las Acacias, in a house called El
Corralon."
"Good. I'll come to visit you there, and you already understand that
whenever you happen to go to any place where poor folk or criminals
gather, you're to let me know.
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