She's trying to get away from that devil
of a Scollard as says she's bound to marry him. I've a good mind to
go and give him a left-hand body-blow in the ribs and settle him for
good and all. He means mischief to the Tarno Rye, and Rhona too.
Brother, I've noticed for a long while that the Romany blood is a
good deal stronger in you than the Gorgio blood. And now mark my
words, that cuss o' your feyther's'll work itself out. You'll go to
his grave and you'll jist put that trushul back in that tomb, and
arter that, and not afore, you'll marry Winnie Wynne.'
Sinfi's creed did not surprise me: the mixture of guile and
simplicity in the Romany race is only understood by the few who know
it thoroughly: the race whose profession it is to cheat by
fortune-telling, to read the false 'dukkeripen' as being 'good enough
for the Gorgios,' believe profoundly in nature's symbols; but her
bearing did surprise me.
'Your dukkeripen will come true,' said she; 'but mine won't, for I
won't let it.'
'And what is yours?' I asked.
'That's nuther here nor there.
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