and intelligent parrot.

Graeme was one of the silent and observant ones, and he could not but
think how beneficent Nature is in casting us in many moulds. If we
were all built alike, he thought, and all dribbled smart inanities,
and nothing but inanities, with the glibness of a Charles Pixley, what
a world it would be!

However, it was Charles Pixley who brought Margaret Brandt to that
dinner, and Graeme sat on the other side of her there. And so, Charles
Svendt--blessings on thee, unworthy friar though thou be!

And presently, Miss Brandt, wearying no doubt of _perdrix, perdrix,
toujours perdrix_,--that is to say of Charles's sprightly chatter, of
which she doubtless got more than enough at home,--essayed
conversation with the silent one at her other side, and, one may
suppose, found it more to her taste, or more of a novelty, than the
Pixley outflow.

For, once started, she and Graeme talked together most of the
evening--breaking off reluctantly to drink various toasts to people in
whom they had, at the moment, no remotest interest whatever, and
recovering the thread of their conversation before they resumed their
seats.

Only one toast really interested Graeme, and that was "The Ladies--the
Guests of the Evening"; and that he drank right heartily, with his
eyes on Miss Brandt's sparkling face, and if it had been left to
himself he would have converted it from plural to singular and drunk
to her alone.