“Now, this really _is_ a hand!” she exclaimed, looking round as if she was surprised to find that it was not a foot! “You have a splendid head line.” Sir Gloster coloured consciously, and glanced surreptitiously at Honor, as much as to say, “I hope you heard _that_!” “Quite a commanding intellect--you could do almost anything you chose--and are likely to be successful in your aims. A strong will; a magnificent line of fate--yes, yes, yes, _all_ the good things! You will marry a fair wife; you will meet her in India--in fact, you _have_ met her already. You had some illnesses before you were ten----” “That’s safe,” scoffed Mrs. Brande from the background; “teething and measles--_I_ could have told that!” “You have really a splendid hand,” pursued Lalla. “I should like to make a cast of it.” “She would like to have it altogether,” grunted Colonel Sladen to his immediate neighbours. “Now, Captain Waring, for you?” cried the oracle, invitingly. Captain Waring, smiling, prosperous, perfectly ready to be amused, stepped forward with alacrity. “A fine broad palm! A magnificent line of fate; great riches are strongly marked--rather susceptible to our sex; a wonderful power of drawing people to you; you will not marry for some years.” As he stood aside, Lalla said, “Last, but not least, Miss Gordon. Oh, come along, Miss Gordon”--beckoning with an imperious finger. “Thank you, I would rather not be done,” she answered stiffly. “What?” inquired young Jervis, in an undertone. “_Not_ be butchered to make a station’s holiday?” “Oh, nonsense!” persisted Lalla rather shrilly. “Your aunt has been ‘done,’ as you call it, and I am anxious to see what type your hand belongs to--it’s sure to be artistic.” “There is a nice little bait for you,” whispered Jervis. “Surely you cannot refuse _that_.” “Oh, Miss Gordon, we all want to hear your fortune,” cried several voices; and, in spite of her unwillingness, Honor soon found herself in Miss Paske’s clutches. “Ahem! Artistic, yes. A dark hand; a _little_ deceitful; not much heart; _very_ ambitious. I see some disease, like small-pox, or a bad accident, in store for you; you will marry when you are about forty. Let me look again. No, you and your husband will _not_ agree. You will live long, and die suddenly.” “How I wish some one could tell Miss Paske’s fortune!” cried Captain Waring, with unusual animation. “Shall I try?” suddenly seizing it. “Great vivacity; despotic will; love of admiration; line of heart _nil_; and the girdle of Venus--oh--oh----” “Oh, nonsense!”--wrenching it away impatiently. “Here is Mr. Joy, who knows something _far_ more interesting--a new and much shorter way of going home.”