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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

"Come. We must go home."
Norah sprang off the tree, hurried to his side, and, with her hands
linked about his arm, looked up at him anxiously.
"Yes, but it's all right, isn't it? You're not angry with me--not
turning against me?"
"No, it's all right."
"Then, don't let's go. Let's stay here a little longer"
"No, we must go--or Mrs. Dale will be coming to fetch us;" and he
began to walk briskly. "And look here, Norah. I shall inform her I
found you here by yourself, and I have lectured you at full length,
and you've said you'll be good for the future. So don't answer back if
she speaks sharp."
"Oh, I don't mind what she says now;" and Norah laughed happily as she
trotted after him through the trees.
That evening he sat outside on the bench long after the supper table
had been taken away and the kitchen door closed. Quite late, when
Mavis spoke to him from an upper window, he said he must have one more
pipe before he turned in.
Norah had been singing in the kitchen while she washed the plates;
then he had heard her humming softly in the sitting-room; now she had
gone up-stairs and was silent. The thoughts and sensations that had
been suddenly and strangely inhibited a few hours ago came into play
again, warmed his blood once more, repossessed his brain.


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