"The thing's absurd. A lady marry a gardener."
"Other ladies have done so and have been happy," she persisted. "Besides Gertrude may not be able to help herself."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing and everything," she replied enigmatically. "Mr. Striver is in possession of all Anne's private papers," she hesitated.
"Well? well? well?" I said impatiently.
"Ask Gertrude," she snapped out.
"Ask what?"
Miss Destiny winced, and her black eyes twinkled again. "Ask her to be your wife, Mr. Vance, else you will find her Mrs. Striver before six months are ended. Now don't ask questions here," she pointed to her flat bosom, "ask them of Gertrude. Again I say, Joseph has Anne Caldershaw's private papers."
"Well?" I was more bewildered than ever.
"That is all," said Miss Destiny, and dropping one of her old-fashioned curtseys, she trotted off, laughing malignantly like a wicked fairy.