"Well, so she is, partly. In a way. Unless I'm mixing her up with some one else."
"And yet Zero isn't a Scotch name," remarked Felicity thoughtfully.
"No; and it's a rotten name too—doesn't suit her a bit. But it's not her real name. On her card is Miss Cora G. Donovan," said Bob.
"How do you know?" asked Vera sharply.
"Well, I had to ask her address. I've got to see her again, don't you know. Before the Derby. To make sure. Only fair to give it a chance," said Bob, rather apologetically.
"She's an Irish American," decided Felicity.
"Is she? I dare say she is. I wonder what she'll say to Wilton now," said Bob meditatively.
"Bertie will tell her everything he knows about himself, and about every one else in whom either he or she takes the slightest interest. Then he'll go on to tell her character, and prophesy her future, and she'll confide in him, and he'll give her good advice. He always tells fortune-tellers their fortune. That's why he's so popular in the occult world," said Felicity.
"Wonder they stand it," said Bob.
"Why, naturally, they enjoy it. Mustn't they get frightfully bored, poor things, with talking all the time about other people, and be only too thankful and delighted to be allowed to talk about themselves a little? Fancy how refreshing it must be; what a relief! Think of the tedium of always bothering about perfect strangers—pretending to care about their luck and their love affairs, their fortunes and their failures, and all their silly little private affairs. It must be absolutely fascinating for them to meet a person so interested in other people as Bertie."