Article image
Article image

Ho had gone into tho gipsy fortune teller's tent at the local lair, and was getting his money’s worth. “Sir,” whispered tho dark-eyed damsel, alter he had. crossed her palm with silver, “ sir, beware 1 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,” sho said. “Then,” observed the man, “ It’s a poor look-out for tho foe. I’m beginning a fortnight's motoring tour next week! I *'

This article text was automatically generated and may include errors. View the full page to see article in its original form.
Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19281221.2.24.2

Bibliographic details

Evening Star, Issue 20055, 21 December 1928, Page 3

Word Count
84

Page 3 Advertisements Column 2 Evening Star, Issue 20055, 21 December 1928, Page 3

Page 3 Advertisements Column 2 Evening Star, Issue 20055, 21 December 1928, Page 3