“Yes. But why do you call her a witch?” I demanded, with feigned laughter.
“Why?” cried the old woman, the expression of her face growing dark with displeasure. “Well, I do not know whether she is a friend of yours, but all I can tell you is that should she be, the best course for you to pursue is to cut her acquaintance.”
“What do you mean?” I gasped.
“I mean exactly what I have said.”
“But I don’t understand,” I cried. “Be more frank with me,” I implored.
“No,” she answered in that hard voice, by which I knew that mention of Yolande’s name had displeased her. “Remember that we are friends, and that sometimes we have interests in common. Therefore, take this piece of advice from an old woman who knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Knows that your friendship with the pretty Yolande is dangerous—extremely dangerous.”