“I will introduce him if you like,” she replied. He reappeared and was introduced vaguely. Then he stood silent, listening to a jargon he was at a loss to comprehend. The women spoke in high, hard voices, with impure vowel sounds and a clipping of final consonants. The conversation gave him a confused impression of Ascot, a horse, a foreign prince, and a lady of fashion who was characterised as a “rotter.” Allusion was also made to a princely restaurant, which Jimmie, taken thither one evening by King, regarded as a fairy-land of rare and exquisite flavours, and the opinion was roundly expressed that you could not get anything fit to eat in the place and that the wines were poison. Jimmie listened wonderingly. No one seemed disposed to controvert the statement, which was made by quite a young girl. Indeed one of her friends murmured that she had had awful filth there a few nights before. A smartly dressed woman of forty who had drawn away from the general conversation asked Jimmie if he had been to Cynthia yet. He replied that he very seldom went to theatres. The lady burst out laughing, and then seeing the genuine enquiry on his face, checked herself. “I thought you were trying to pull my leg,” she explained. “I mean Cynthia, the psychic, the crystal gazer. Why, every one is going crazy over her. Do you mean to say you have n't been?” “Heaven forbid!” said Jimmie. “You may scoff, but she's wonderful. Do you know she actually gave me the straight tip for the Derby? She did n't mean to, for she does n't lay herself out for that sort of thing--but she said, after telling me a lot of things about myself--things that had really happened--she was getting tired, I must tell you--'I see something in your near future--it is a horse with a white star on its forehead--it has gone--I don't know what it means.' I went to the Derby. I had n't put a cent on, as I had been cleaned out at Cairo during the winter and had to retrench. The first horse that was led out had a white star on his forehead. None of the others had. It was St. Damien--a thirty to one chance. I backed him outright for £300. And now I have £9000 to play with. Don't tell me there's nothing in Cynthia after that.” The knot of ladies dissolved. Jimmie put Norma's teacup down and went slowly back with her to the main room. He was feeling depressed, having lost his bearings in this unfamiliar world. Suddenly he halted. “I wish you could pinch me,” he said. “Why?” “To test whether I am awake. Have I really heard a sane and educated lady expressing her belief in the visions of a crystal-gazing adventuress?” “You have. She believes firmly. So do heaps of women.” “I hope to heaven you don't!” he cried with a sudden intensity. “What concern can my faith be to you?” she asked. “I beg your pardon. No concern at all,” he said apologetically. “But I generally blurt out what is in my mind.” “And what is in your mind? I am a person you can be quite frank with.”