"Some of those Mexicans are cute!" Carolyn proclaimed as they were getting into their rented car. She was obviously a little tipsy, and her speech was slightly slurred.

"Cute!" Don said indignantly. "I was just thinking the opposite."

"Don't you like those pretty little girls who sell flowers on the street?" Carolyn asked.

"Well, yes, but…"

"They're cute, aren't they?" Carolyn said.

"I suppose so," Don replied. There was no use arguing with Carolyn about the smallest point. She always likes to be right. Besides, his lovely young bride was in no more danger from those "cute" Mexicans now that they were on their way home from that place.

Don headed back toward El Molino, and as the car began the mounting climb up the steep grade he knew that he would be glad to get to bed. He'd had far too much to drink and the outing had exhausted him. Carolyn had turned on the car radio and the mellifluous tones of Mexican guitars filled the night air. That was more like his kind of music, Don thought, wishing that they could have spent the evening at the resort club where a more sedate group was playing. But after one drink there, Carolyn had asked him to take her into town. And how could he refuse, after all? It wasn't really that much, as long as Carolyn was happy.

They pulled up beside the cabana, the tires crunching in the gravel as their car came to a halt. Carolyn waited until Don came around and opened the door for her, then she danced and swayed all the way up the steps to the little house that was theirs for the duration of their stay at the resort. Next door Carolyn could see that the lights were on. The adjoining house was identical to Carolyn's and Don's down to the last detail. Carolyn looked curiously at the bedroom window, and noticed that she could see shadows moving behind the window shade.