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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

"
"Will, I wish you'd tell me--I can't bear suspense."
"Then here's the first question. If satisfied of the security, would
you lend out the money on mortgage with a person who has the chance of
setting up himself in an old-established business?"
"What business?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. Take the person first. You haven't asked
about _him_. In a sense, his character--honesty and straight ways--is
a part of the security. He is somebody you've known for a many years."
"Who is it?"
"Myself."
"Will? What on earth do you mean?"
"Mavis, it's like this--There, bide a bit."
They had been sitting in the dusk after their high tea; and now Mary
brought a lighted lamp into the room, and put it on the table between
them.
"All right, my girl. Never mind clearing away till I call for you."
He waited until Mary had gone out of the room, and then went on
talking. His face with the lamp-light full upon it looked very firm
and serious, and his manner while he explained all these new ideas was
strangely unemotional. He spoke not in the style of a husband to a
wife, but of a business man proposing a partnership to another man.
"It seems to me, viewing it all round, a wonderful good chance. An
opening that isn't likely to come in one's way twice.


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