Julio. I imagine it.
Manolo. I dare say there is no use in offering advice, not when your mind is made up; but if my experience counts for anything, I should say: "Don't you marry, my boy, don't you marry, under any circumstances." You will ask: "Why did you do it, then?" I reply: "For the same reason you are doing it now." Not all of us can hold out as long as Galán, and regulate love according to the civil service, though for that matter, if you promise not to mention it—what would Adelaida say if she knew?—I have met Galán more than once on my way to the office, taking the air in the Plaza del Carmen with a tight little maid servant.
Julio. Heigh-ho, Galán!
Manolo. Exactly. He picks out the girls who have fat places, fashionable cooks who squeeze enough out of the change to hire a boy to carry home their market-baskets, bulging over, if you please, with rich, juicy things. Think what life must be in one of those families! And what, too, must come the way of the cook! I have seen them with diamond earrings.
Julio. You don't say? You are observant yourself.
Manolo. No, I get no further than the market-basket. Take my word for it.
Pepe enters.
Pepe. Julio! Manolo! Well, boys… Caramba!
Manolo. Hello, Pepe.
Julio. What have you been up to? We haven't seen you at the office. I was going to drop in at your house and inquire how you were.
Pepe. No, I haven't been to the office. I am not going back.
Julio. What is that?
