"Well?" Dorothy questioned hardily.
Marie shivered.
"It was rather eerie," she said. "But I don't believe in it. Shall we go home?"
"What did she say to you?" Dorothy asked as they drove away together. "She told me that I had had one disappointment in my life which I should never get over . . ." She laughed. "She was right, too! Not that I believe in fortune telling."
Marie hardly listened. She was thinking of the palmist's soft voice and the touch of her hands as she had said: "I can see the sea in your hand—and again in the future I can see much water. It will come again in your life, and it carries on its bosom trouble and many tears . . ."
She was not superstitious, but the words haunted her.
Troubles and tears. Surely she had had enough of them.
241 She wished she had not gone to the bazaar; she wished with all her heart she had not gone to the palmist.
. . . "You started with dreams—alas! so many dreams—and they have forsaken you one by one. But they will come back ... A little patience and they will come back; dreams no longer, but reality."
She sat up with a little determined laugh.