can such things be

Me and Miss Arabia wandering down Grafton Street.
An aged travelling woman staggers towards us out of the rain, points a finger dramatically at Miss Arabia and intones with strange high mystic portent:
"She will be your wife. Sooooooon."
Miss Arabia looks a bit shook.
Naturally she is unaware that Mary has predicted I will marry every woman she's seen me with on Grafton Street for the past twenty years.
She's yet to get it right.
Miss Arabia and me begin to move off.
I turn to the travelling woman and cross her palm with a twenty spot.
"Be careful of this one Mary," I whisper conspiratorially. "She'd put a Fatwa on you soon as look at you."