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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

"Mind you," he added,
"I'd have had a try at bringing it to anchor if there'd been anybody
in the cart. That would have been another pair of shoes. What you're
justified in doing for a fellow human being you aren't justified in
doing to save a few pounds, shillings and pence."
She clung to this thought of his innate common sense. And there was
comfort and hope, too, in another thought. He was a naturally
religious man, if not an orthodoxly religious one. The church service
bored him; he only attended it from motives of policy; but,
nevertheless, when you got him inside the sacred edifice, his behavior
was perfect, and you could not watch him on his knees or hear him say
"Christ have mercy upon us, O Lord Christ have mercy on us," without
being convinced that he did truly believe in an omnipotent God and the
punishments or rewards that await us on the other side of the grave.
Surely the man who bowed his head like that at the name of Jesus would
not, could not, be the man to take his own life merely because it had
become an unhappy life.
The hope that lay in such thoughts as these helped her to support the
strain of three long waiting days and four long sleepless nights. Then
on the fourth day, Saturday, the strain was relieved.


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