Then, tossing the burned end into a silver tray, she pushed it from her with a decisive movement.

"I've had six," she observed, "and that's my limit." "What I'm trying to understand," confessed Trent, leaning forward in his earnestness, "is why you should care so greatly for Miss Wilde ?" Gerty flashed up suddenly from her cushions.

"And pray why shouldn't I ?" she demanded.
"Because," he hesitated an instant and then advanced with the audacity born of ignorance, "you're as much alike as a thrush and a paroquet." She laughed again.
"So you consider me a paroquet ?" "In comparison with Laura Wilde." "Well, I'd have said a canary," she remarked indulgently, "but we'll let it pass.

I don't see though," she serenely continued, "why a paroquet shouldn't have a feeling for a thrush ?" He shook his head, smiling.

"It seems a bit odd, that's all." "Then, if it's any interest to you to know it," pursued Gerty, with a burst of confidence, "I'd walk across Brooklyn Bridge, every step of the way, on my knees for Laura.