"How? In your crystal?" I asked.
"Yes, he was there."
"It's odd," mused Duane, "that you can never do anything of advantage to yourself by gazing into your crystal."
"It's the invariable limit to clairvoyance," she remarked.[6]
"A sort of penalty for being super-gifted," added Stafford.
"Perhaps.... We can't help ourselves."
"It's too bad," I volunteered.
"Oh, I don't care," she said, with a slight shrug of her pretty shoulders.
"Come," said somebody, teasingly, "wouldn't you like to know how soon you are going to fall in love, and with whom?"
She laughed, dropped her cigarette into a silver bowl, stretched her arms above her head, straightened her slender figure, turned her head and looked at us.