"It would dissipate the influences.

I cannot do that! On the contrary, the curtains should be drawn close, and if the ladies will permit of it I will light my lamp." Even as she spoke she was jerking the thick curtains closely together; she even pinned them across so that no ray of the bright sunlight outside could penetrate into the room.
For a few moments they were in complete darkness, and Sylvia felt a queer, eerie sensation of fear, but this soon passed away as the lamp--the "_Suspension_," as Madame Cagliostra proudly called it--was lit.
When her lamp was well alight, the soothsayer drew three chairs up to the round table, and motioned the two strangers to sit down.
"You will take my friend first," said Anna Wolsky, imperiously; and then, to Sylvia, she said, in English, "Would you rather I went away, dear?
I could wait on the staircase till you were ready for me to come back.

It is not very pleasant to have one's fortune told when one is as young and as pretty as you are, before other people." "Of course I don't mind your being here!" cried Sylvia Bailey, laughing--then, looking doubtfully at Madame Cagliostra, though it was obvious the Frenchwoman did not understand English, "The truth is that I should feel rather frightened if you were to leave me here all by myself.
So please stay." Madame Cagliostra began dealing out the cards on the table.

First slowly, then quickly, she laid them out in a queer pattern; and as she did so she muttered and murmured to herself.

Then a frown came over her face; she began to look disturbed, anxious, almost angry.
Sylvia, in spite of herself, grew interested and excited.