conversations shouted from one bedchamber to another, and out of the
rooms, their hands armed with the night-service, would come the
landlady, one of Dona Violante's daughters, a tall, obese Biscayan
Lady, and another woman whom they called the Baroness.

The landlady invariably wore a corset-cover of yellow flannel, the
Baroness a wrapper mottled with stains from cosmetics and the Biscayan
lady a red waist through whose opening was regularly presented, for
the admiration of those who happened along the corridor, a huge white
udder streaked with coarse blue veins.

After this matutinal ceremony, and not infrequently during the same,
complaints, disputes, gossip and strife would arise, providing
tid-bits for the remaining hours.

On the day following the scrape between the landlady and Irene, when
the latter returned to her room after having fulfilled her mission, a
secret conclave was held by those who remained.

"Don't you know? Didn't you hear anything last night?" asked the
Biscayan.

"No," replied the landlady and the Baroness. "What happened?"

"Irene smuggled a man into the house last night."

"She did?"

"I heard her talking to him myself."