"Bertie, you're extraordinary," she said.
"Eh? How do you mean, extraordinary?"
"All this nonsense you have been talking, trying to reconcile me and D'Arcy. Not that I don't admire you for it. I think it's rather wonderful of you. But then everybody says that, though you have a brain like a peahen, you're the soul of kindness and generosity."
Well, I was handicapped here by the fact that, never having met a peahen, I was unable to estimate the quality of these fowls' intelligence, but she had spoken as if they were a bit short of the grey matter, and I was about to ask her who the hell she meant by 'everybody,' when she resumed.
"You want to marry me yourself, don't you?"
I had to take another mouthful of the substance in the bottle before I could speak. One of those difficult questions to answer.
"Oh, rather," I said, for I was anxious to make the evening a success. "Of course. Who wouldn't?"