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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

I think I'll rest
my bones a bit."
Then he got into the wagon, and carefully clambering over impediments
came toward her. For a moment as he stood over her the sunlight was on
his face, and she, looking up at him, thought that he was not only a
fine but quite a beautiful man. The light seemed to soften and yet
ennoble his features, and his eyes, unblinking in the glare, were blue
and clear as water. When he sat down close to her little nest she
pushed the basket away from her, and raising her hand laid it on his
knees. To her delight he put his hand on hers, and left it there. He
was in shadow now, showing a dark profile, and again she admired
him--her strong, big, handsome man, her man that she was pining for.
"Will," she said tremulously, "don't move, but just look behind you,
and tell me all you see."
"I don't see anything, Mav, unless I heft meself up again."
"No, sit as you are. It just bears out what you said. We're never more
to look back. We're only to look forward. Will?"
He had taken his hand away, and turned the back of his head toward
her.
"Will," she repeated; but he did not answer. "Will, my dear one, this
_is_ going to be a fresh start, isn't it? Like a new beginning for
us.


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Rodzic Po Ludzku Fundacja Sloneczko Pajacyk Dzieci Niczyje Krwinka