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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"


"Don't say any more," cried Mavis. "I'm not understanding it, but I
know it's all right. Do let's get it settled before Mr. Bates alters
his mind."
"It must be done formally, Mavis, through your lawyers. Mr. Cleaver is
capable and trustworthy. It's to be a regular mortgage, properly tied
up; and he must approve--"
"I don't care whether he approves or doesn't. I approve."
"Then I thank you," said Dale, gravely, "for the way you've met me,
and I assure you I appreciate it. As to the trade itself, I b'lieve I
shan't go wrong. It's not so new to me as people might suppose. I'm
well aware of its principles; and, moreover, one trade's precious like
another--and a man's faculties are bound to tell, no matter how you
apply them."
Mavis was overjoyed. When she sang to herself now while dressing of a
morning the notes poured out loud and full, even when there was scarce
a puff of breath behind them. She felt so proud and happy to think
that fate had given her the power to help William, and that he had
consented to avail himself of the power. Once more he had begun to
lean on her. As in the past, so in the future, he would derive support
from his poor little misunderstood, but always well-meaning Mavis.


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