'
Poor little Marion! She looked very wistful and pathetic at that
moment. A lump rose in my throat as I strove to dry her eyes and find
words of comfort.
She sobbed on unrestrainedly, however, and nothing I could say would
soothe her. 'Marion, darling,' I whispered, my own eyes growing moist,
'don't cry any more. Isn't there anything I can say to cheer you up?
Can't I suggest anything----?'
The door opened and Elizabeth entered. She carried a tray in her hand
on which were a bottle of stout and a glass.
'I thort so,' she said, setting down the tray and looking at Marion's
drooping form. 'Ah, these men--'ounds, I call 'em. I came in to 'ave
a word with Miss Marryun and cheer 'er up, like. I bin through it
myself, so I knows.'
She approached Marion and laid a damp red hand on her shoulder. 'I bin
lookin' at the cards for you, miss, an' I see a loverly future,' she
began in a coaxing voice. 'I see a tall dark man crossin' water for
you, with a present in 'is right 'and.'
Marion, who was not without a sense of humour, smiled rather wanly.
Encouraged, Elizabeth continued: 'Wot's the use o' spoilin' your pretty
eyes cryin' for the moon--by which I mean Mr. 'Arbinger--when 'e isn't
your Fate? Why, bless you, I was once goin' to marry a plumber's mate,
and jest a week afore the weddin 'e went orf with some one else an'
owin' me arf-a-crown, too. I was cut up at the time, but I know now 'e
wasn't my Fate, 'avin been told since that I'm goin' to marry a man
wot'll work with 'is brain.
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