The cluster of _flor de noche buena_ blazed in great masses before the open glass doors of the reception rooms.

A big green parrot, brilliant like an emerald in a cage that flashed like gold, screamed out ferociously, "_Viva Costaguana!_" then called twice mellifluously, "Leonarda! Leonarda!" in imitation of Mrs.Gould's voice, and suddenly took refuge in immobility and silence.

Mrs.Gould reached the end of the gallery and put her head through the door of her husband's room.
Charles Gould, with one foot on a low wooden stool, was already strapping his spurs.

He wanted to hurry back to the mine.

Mrs.Gould, without coming in, glanced about the room.