“No matter—no matter; they have the same depth of expression. ‘That eye’s dark charm ’twere vain to tell,’ eh? Isn’t that what Byron says?”
Of the appropriateness of the quotation my plate alone was in a position to give an opinion, as on it my eyes were immovably fixed.
“I say, sir,” said Nugent, suddenly, from across the table, “did you know that Miss Watson was a great fortune-teller? You ought to show her your hand.”
Nothing loth, O’Neill laid his fat white hand on the table for Miss Watson’s inspection. She at once opened the campaign in a masterly manner, by pronouncing it to be that of a “flirt,” and I felt that the chieftain’s entertainment need no longer be a matter of anxiety to me.
Looking at his father with a peculiar expression, in which amusement seemed to predominate, Nugent listened for a minute or two to Miss Watson’s ingenious insinuations and pronouncements. Then he turned to me.
“Do you believe in chiromancy, Miss Sarsfield? It seems to me an adaptable sort of science.”
