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Bob put two half-crowns in her hand.

“A little bit more, for luck, for your young lady’s luck,” she wheedled, like a wheedling wolf. “Another bit of silver, to bring you luck.”

“You’ve got a shilling for luck, that’s enough,” said Bob calmly and quietly, as they moved away to the car.

“A little bit of silver! Just a little bit, for your luck in love!”

Yvette, with the sudden long, startling gestures of her long limbs, swung round as she was entering the car, and with long arm outstretched, strode and put something into the gipsy’s hand, then stepped, bending her height, into the car.

“Prosperity to the beautiful young lady, and the gipsy’s blessing on her,” came the suggestive, half-sneering voice of the woman.

The engine birred! then birred! again more fiercely, and started. Leo switched on the lights, and immediately the quarry with the gipsies fell back into the blackness of night.

“Goodnight!” called Yvette’s voice, as the car started. But hers was the only voice that piped up, chirpy and impudent in its nonchalance. The headlights glared down the stone lane.

“Yvette, you’ve got to tell us what she said to you,” cried Lucille, in the teeth of Yvette’s silent will NOT to be asked.

“Oh, nothing at ALL thrilling,” said Yvette, with false warmth. “Just the usual old thing: a dark man who means good luck, and a fair one who means bad: and a death in the family, which if it means Granny, won’t be so VERY awful: and I shall marry when I’m twenty-three, and have heaps of money and heaps of love, and two children. All sounds very nice, but it’s a bit too much of a good thing, you know.”