Olga looked up dubiously; but the handsome young face that looked back would only laugh.
Gaily he made answer. "It's a parrot--quite a youngster. I picked him up in the bazaar. He isn't properly fledged yet, but he promises well. I'm keeping him for a bit to educate him. But if you won't have him, I shall wring his neck."
He continued to laugh, though her face expressed horror. "And you will be morally responsible; think of that! It's tantamount to being guilty of murder. Horrible idea, isn't it? You--who never in your life killed so much as a moth! Hullo! What's up?"
For Olga had made a sudden, very curious gesture, almost as if she winced from a threatened blow. Her face was white and strained; she pressed her hands very tightly over her heart.
She gazed at him with the eyes of one coming out of a stupor. "I don't know," she said. "I had a queer feeling as if--as if--" She paused, seeming to wrestle with some inner, elusive vision. "There! It's gone!" she said, after a moment, disappointment and relief curiously mingled in her voice. "What were we talking about? Oh, yes, the parrot! It's very kind of you. I shall like to have it."
"I've christened it Noel," he remarked, with some complacence. "It's a Christmas present, you see."
"I see," said Olga, beginning to smile. "And you are teaching it to talk?"
"I'm only going to teach it one sentence," he said.
He gave her a sidelong glance. "I don't think I'd better tell you."
Olga laughed. Somehow she could not help feeling indulgent. Moreover, the interview was nearly at an end, for they were nearing the bungalow, and Nick's white figure was visible on the verandah.
"In that case," she said, "you had better not educate it any further."
"Oh, it won't make you cross on the bird's lips," Noel assured her.
"Has it got lips?" she asked. "What a curious specimen it must be!"
"I say, don't laugh!" he besought her, with dancing eyes. "It's not a joke, I assure you. I'll tell you what I'm teaching it to say if you like. But I shall have to whisper it. Do you mind?"
Again she found him hard to resist, albeit she did not want to yield. "Well?" she said.
They were close to the bungalow now. Noel came very near. "Of course you can wring the little brute's neck if it displeases you," he said, "but it's a corky youngster and I don't much think you will. He's learning to say, 'I love you, Olga.'"