But please don't give me any mangroves."
The girl apparently was quite fascinated by the sound of English. She
began to chatter to her mother at an amazing rate, trying repeatedly to
imitate the hissing sound which the Latin races always perceive in
Anglo-Saxon speech. Her mother reproved her instantly. To make
amends, the girl offered Iris a fine pomegranate. Iris, of course,
lost nothing of this bit of by-play. It was almost the first touch of
nature that she had discovered among the amazing inhabitants of
Fernando Noronha.
These small amenities helped to pass the time, but Iris soon noted an
air of suspense in the older woman's attitude. Though mindful of her
guest's comfort, Luisa Gomez had ever a keen ear for external sounds.
In all probability, she was disturbed by the distant reports of
fire-arms, and it was a rare instance of innate good-breeding that she
did not alarm her guest by calling attention to them. Iris, amid such
novel surroundings, could not distinguish one noise from another.
Night-birds screamed hideously in the trees without; a host of crickets
kept up an incessant chorus in the undergrowth; the intermittent
roaring of breakers on the rocks invaded the narrow creek. The medley
puzzled Iris, but the island woman well knew that stirring events were
being enacted on the other side of the hill.
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