“Hush, please,” said the seeress. “The shadow of sickness deepens—it deepens into the blackness of death. A man—an old man—he is dying. You will get money from him. Beware of those who seek to flatter you. You are impressionable, but clear-sighted; impulsive, yet self-controlled; reserved, but intensely passionate. I see marriage for you in the future, but with a man somewhat older than yourself. I see conflict....” She stopped again.
“Perhaps the conflict is already over. You have certainly known love—passion——”
Elsie, from mingled nervousness and embarrassment, suddenly giggled.
The clairvoyante raised an authoritative hand. “It is impossible for me to go on if there are resistances,” she said angrily, in the voice that she had used at first, ugly and rather hoarse.
“Shut up, Elsie!” came sharply from Irene.
Elsie ran her finger-nails into her palms in an endeavour to check the nervous, spasmodic laughter that threatened to overcome her.
“The current is broken,” said Madame Clara in an indignant voice.
There was a silence.
At last Elsie heard Irene say timidly:
“Won’t you go on, madame?”