The moment that the beautiful brunette found herself alone with Madame Barto she exclaimed breathlessly:
“Just now as I was passing in my carriage I saw a young man I know—Frank Laurier—leaving this house. Did he come to have his fortune told, or—or—to see that lovely girl that admitted me?”
Madame answered demurely:
“To have his fortune told, of course. In the lines of his hand I found a broken engagement, and he wished to know if it would ever be renewed.”
“And you told him——” eagerly.
“I beg pardon. I cannot disclose the secrets of my customers,” madame returned, rather stiffly, as she bent over the jeweled hand her customer had just ungloved.
A bursting sigh heaved the young girl’s breast, and she cried plaintively:
“Quick! What do you see?”
“Ah, how strange! I see in your hand, also, a broken engagement!” she exclaimed, in surprise.
“Yes, yes—now, tell me, will we ever make it up, our foolish quarrel!” cried the girl wildly.