BAD FOR THE FOE.
He had gone into the gipsy fortuneteller's tent at the local fair, and was getting his moneys worth. "Sir," whispered the dark-eyed damsel, after he had crossed her palm with silver, "sir, beware! A bitter foe will cross your path." The man started violently. "When?" he asked. "Next week?" The girl looked once again at his hand. "Yes, most likely," she said. "Then," observed the man, "it's a poor look-out for the foe. I'm beginning a fortnight's motoring tour nest week!"
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/EP19281215.2.157.11
Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume CVI, Issue 132, 15 December 1928, Page 21
Word Count
85BAD FOR THE FOE. Evening Post, Volume CVI, Issue 132, 15 December 1928, Page 21
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