" Mrs. Bailey was digging the point of her parasol in the
grass.
"Tiens! Tiens!" he exclaimed. "That is an odd idea! Pray tell me all
about it. Did you and your friend consult a fashionable necromancer, or
did you content yourselves with going to a cheap witch?"
"To quite a cheap witch."
Sylvia laughed happily; she was beginning to feel really better now. She
rather wondered that she had never told Count Paul about that strange
visit to the fortune-teller, but she had been taught, as are so many
Englishwomen of her type, to regard everything savouring of superstition
as not only silly and weak-minded, but also as rather discreditable.
"The woman called herself Madame Cagliostra," she went on gaily, "and she
only charged five francs. In the end we did pay her fifteen. But she gave
us plenty for our money, I assure you--in fact, I can't remember half the
things she said!"
"And to you was prophesied--?" Count Paul leant forward and looked at her
fixedly.
Sylvia blushed.
"Oh, she told me all sorts of things! As you say they don't really know
anything; they only guess.
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