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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

I call him undoubtedly a handsome man.
And they tell me that the girls are falling in love with him."
Norah laughed, and said that, if Mr. Dale had been correctly informed,
she was sorry for the taste of the girls.
"Then you don't admire his looks, Norah?"
"It rather surprises me, because I should have thought he was just the
sort of person to attract and fascinate the other sex--a bachelor too,
without ties, able to take advantage of any success in that line that
came his way. I mean, of course, by offering marriage to the party who
fancied him."
Norah said again that she thought nothing of Mr. Furnival's alleged
handsomeness. She considered him a namby-pamby.
"You are young still. Perhaps I oughtn't to talk like this--putting
nonsense in your head. But it'll come there sure enough of its own
accord. Your turn will come. You'll fall in love one day, Norah."
Norah, putting the big account-books back on the shelf over the desk,
did not answer.
"You've never fallen in love yet, have you?"
Norah would not answer.
"Ah, well." Dale got up from his chair, and stretched himself. "But
you'll have to marry some day, you know."
"Oh, no, I shan't."
"Oh, yes, my dear, you will. That's a thing there's no harm for girls
to think of, because it's what they've got to prepare themselves for.


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