"Of the best society," I suggested.
"Yes, the most honourable of parrots. I don't like parrot-talk. It sounds so uncanny. Had I lived in the Middle Ages I am certain I would have believed that a talking bird must be possessed by the devil. I am sure Therese would believe that now. My own sister! She would cross herself many times and simply quake with terror."
"But you were not terrified," I said. "May I ask when that interesting communication took place?"
"Yesterday, just before you blundered in here of all days in the year. I was sorry for him."
"Why tell me this? I couldn't help noticing it. I regretted I hadn't my umbrella with me."
"Those unforgiven tears! Oh, you simple soul! Don't you know that people never cry for anybody but themselves? . . . Amigo George, tell me--what are we doing in this world?"
"Do you mean all the people, everybody?"
"No, only people like you and me. Simple people, in this world which is eaten up with charlatanism of all sorts so that even we, the simple, don't know any longer how to trust each other."
"Don't we? Then why don't you trust him? You are dying to do so, don't you know?"
She dropped her chin on her breast and from under her straight eyebrows the deep blue eyes remained fixed on me, impersonally, as if without thought.
"What have you been doing since you left me yesterday?" she asked.
"The first thing I remember I abused your sister horribly this morning."
