"I should think so," exclaimed Angel. "How dreadful—and how soon."
"Dreadful—certainly," agreed Philip, looking at her interrogatively; "but why soon?"
"It is such a short time since I saw her; it seems only the other day we all had our fortunes told by a Fakir, and he said, when he looked at Miss Cuffe's hand, 'I see death.' Of course she did not understand—and she was not told—and it was only a fortnight ago."
"A mere coincidence," said Gascoigne; "I don't believe in these predictions. Did you have your fortune told too?"
"Oh, yes, we all had, including Mrs. Gordon."
"And what did he tell you?"
Angel looked at him meditatively; she seemed to be making up her mind. At last she said:
"He told me that I was married."
"That was nothing new or strange."
"No; but that my husband had married me at the bidding of—another woman."