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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

It is a will that is bound to attract the
attention of the press."
"Then thank you again, sir. And good afternoon--with renewed thanks
for the courteous way you wrote to my wife, and received the two of us
to-day."
"Good afternoon." Mr. Cleaver smiled and shook hands good-humoredly.
"My congratulations, Mrs. Dale; and one word of advice, free gratis.
Invest your legacy wisely, and don't confound capital with income.
You're going to have two thousand pounds all told, not two thousand a
year, you know."
"Oh, no, sir--I wouldn't be so foolish as to think so."
They had tea at a pastry-cook's in complete silence, and they were
half-way home again before Mavis ventured to rouse her husband from
his ominous gloom.
"Will," she said, with an assumption of calmness and confidence, "I
didn't at once catch the drift of what you were saying to Mr. Cleaver,
and when I tried to stop you it was because I was all on edge from
hearing such a tremendous piece of news. Such a lot more than ever I
could have _dreamed_ of."
He did not answer. Steadily watching the horse's ears, and holding the
reins in both hands with the conscientious care of an unpractised
coachman, he drove down the slope to the Cross Roads and round the
corner into the woods.


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