Explore "Mexico" by James Albert Michener on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Toward midnight, while there was still noisy activity in the plaza, the Widow Palafox came to my table, tapped me on the arm and whispered, "Your package of manuscript reached the airport and will be in New York at just about this time. You owe the messenger but we paid and will put it on your bill."
She led me through the ancient doorway and onto a small patio that I had loved as a child. There was the stone fountain on which I had played and the mass of brightly colored flowers that had always bloomed in such profusion. We climbed a series of stone steps to the second floor of the hotel, where a broad cloister ran completely around the upper section of the patio, into which it dropped tendrils of flowering plants. The heart of the hotel had always been this quiet patio of weathered stone, echoing cloister and abundant flowers.