She remonstrates, laughing, and is a childish schoolgirl again.
“Eddy, no! I’m too sticky to be kissed. But give me your hand, and I’ll blow a kiss into that.”
He does so. She breathes a light breath into it and asks, retaining it and looking into it:—
“Now say, what do you see?”
“See, Rosa?”
“Why, I thought you Egyptian boys could look into a hand and see all sorts of phantoms. Can’t you see a happy Future?”
For certain, neither of them sees a happy Present, as the gate opens and closes, and one goes in, and the other goes away.