“Aw!—fortune-telling?” said a voice.
“Yes; he was just going to read my palm,” answered jolly little pal promptly while Bob turned rather nervously to regard the monocle-man.
“Perhaps—aw!—I could read it,” suggested the monocle-man, looking at the closed fingers. “I have some—aw!—skill that way. Perhaps, Miss Dolly—aw!—you would permit me to look at your heart line?”
“I just won’t,” said Miss Dolly, with flashing eyes.
Bob watched her closely. If she tried to swallow it, he would stop her.
“How—aw!—very unkind!” said the monocle-man. “If you would—aw!—permit me, I could tell you—? aw!—just what kind of a man you’re going to marry.”
“I’m not going to marry any one,” replied the jolly little pal.
“Please now, do—aw!” he urged.
“Well, if you want to be tiresome.” She gave him the hand that didn’t hold the ring.
“Impulsive! Charming!” he said, bending his monocle owlishly over the soft pink palm. “Now the other?”