Ethel paused irresolute. She did not really have much faith in the old woman's powers of divination, but she was curious, and—"the woman who hesitates is lost."
The fortune-teller threw herself into a chair, leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and feigned sleep.
Ethel, with her hand on Kay's collar, waited nervously.
Soon the woman began to mutter, like one asleep.
And as she was very angry at Ethel for coming there and getting her into what she foresaw would be a very bad scrape, she determined to give the young lady a very grewsome fortune. She accordingly began:
"You have a rich and handsome lover, and every girl in Washington has envied you, but now they laugh in derision."
Ethel started violently, her dark eyes flashing luridly.
"They laugh," continued the pretended clairvoyant, "because another girl has cut you out with your grand lover. He has almost forgotten you already, and worships the blue eyes and golden hair of his new love."
She heard a repressed gasp of agony that assured her that the chance shot had hit the mark, but her malice was not satiated yet, and she continued solemnly and dreamily: