A whirlwind in a high-necked blouse of Spanish lace and a black velvet skirt over a froth of red-frilled petticoats, rushed to slip pretty, lace-trimmed arms round Felipe’s neck and pull his lean cheek down upon her gently contoured one. “Aren’t I a lucky girl!” she exclaimed, “to have two such handsome escorts.” “Isabel hasn’t seen you yet,” said a quiet voice from behind. Anita was pleased to turn her eyes from the spectacle to look at Pepe. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “Felipe knows how to handle my wife’s exuberance.” “I don’t doubt that for a second,” she flipped back dryly. “The point is, can he curb it? For that matter, does he want to? Aren’t you a tiny bit jealous?” Pepe’s mouth split into a grin to show two rows of even white teeth. “You bet I am! Perhaps I’d be happier married to a fat, homely señora.”
