men, and in almost sacred excitement at facing Don Ramón as hostess.
The house was a fairly large villa, quietly and simply furnished, with natural taste.
“Do you always live here?” said Kate to Don Ramón. “Never at your hacienda?”
“How do you know I have a hacienda?” he asked.
“I saw it in a newspaper—near Sayula.”
“Ah!” he said, laughing at her with his eyes. “You saw about the returning of the Gods of Antiquity.”
“Yes,” she said. “Don’t you think it is interesting?”
“I think so,” he said.
“I love the word Quetzalcoatl.”
“The word!” he repeated.
His eyes laughed at her teasingly all the time.
“What do you think, Mrs Leslie,” cried the pale-faced young Mirabal, in curiously resonant English, with a French accent. “Don’t you think it would be wonderful if the gods came back to Mexico? our own gods?” He sat in intense expectation, his blue eyes