"She was a girl, a wonder girl--a real girl, and Irish, or I'm not an O'Keefe!" "We were talking about the frog-woman, Larry," I said, conciliatingly.
His eyes were wild as he regarded us.
"Say," he said, "if you two had been in the Garden of Eden when Eve took the apple, you wouldn't have had time to give her a look for counting the scales on the snake!" He strode swiftly over to the wall.

We followed.

Larry paused, stretched his hand up to the flowers on which the tapering fingers of the golden-eyed girl had rested.
"It was here she put up her hand," he murmured.

He pressed caressingly the carved calyxes, once, twice, a third time even as she had--and silently and softly the wall began to split; on each side a great stone pivoted slowly, and before us a portal stood, opening into a narrow corridor glowing with the same rosy lustre that had gleamed around the flame-tipped shadows! "Have your gun ready, Olaf!" said Larry.

"We follow Golden Eyes," he said to me.
"Follow ?" I echoed stupidly.
"Follow!" he said.