[While this answer gives hint to the whereabouts of a mademoiselle, Alfred Newendyke would be a fool to fault Lawrence Dimick for that honest reflection. He would be a fool and he would be showing is own hand. Speak of women mounted on your sword, speak of lifting skirts and finding warmth therein, do not under any circumstances think of that man doing these things. It is wrong. Speak of Spain.]

I've never been although I hear tale of its warm beaches and the people there with the sun always on their shoulders.

[The broad bare shoulders of Spanish men. Those who were not noble enough to sail away on a galleon with the royal fleet. They toil in the soil and serve as the backbone of their kingdom. Alfred empathizes with them, to sail away for glory is not as glamorous as it seems. The cafe has seen more raucous days but the calmer atmosphere suits him.] And what will you do there with your riches?

[Orange smiles, he can't help but speak well of their plans. He's supposed to.]