He laughed sardonically. “I thought I knew what to do. Generally a prima donna has either a pet dog or a pet parrot — sopranos go in for dogs, contraltos seem to prefer parrots. I have made a study of these agreeable animals, and I have found that through them their mistresses can be approached when all other avenues are closed. I can talk doggily to poodles in five languages, and in the art of administering sugar to the bird I am, I venture to think, unrivalled. But Rosa had no pets. And after a week’s negotiation, I was compelled to own myself beaten. It was a disadvantage to me that she wouldn’t lose her temper. She was too polite; she really was grateful for what I had done for her. She gave me no chance to work on her feelings. But beyond all this there was something strange about Rosa, something I have never been able to