give off a great light, between the dark walls of mango.
At the back of the newcomers the servant woman closed the big doors on to the yard, then waved Kate to the stairs.
“Pass this way, Señorita.”
A bell tinkled above. Kate climbed the stone stairs. And there above her was Doña Carlota, in white muslin and with white shoes and stockings, her face looking curiously yellow and faded by contrast. Her soft brown hair was low over her ears, and she held out her thin brownish arms with queer effusiveness.
“So, you have come! And you have walked, walked all the way? Oh, imagine walking in so much sun and dust! Come, come in and rest.”
She took Kate’s hands and led her across the open terrace at the top of the stairs.
“It is beautiful here,” said Kate.
She stood on the terrace,