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Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset), 1874-1965

"The Magician"

She wore only one
ring, a large emerald which Arthur had given her on their engagement. He
could not resist taking her hand.
'Would you like to go on anywhere?' he said, when they had finished
dinner and were drinking their coffee.
'No, let us stay here. I must go to bed early, as I have a tiring day
before me tomorrow.'
'What are you going to do?' he asked.
'Nothing of any importance,' she laughed.
Presently the diners began to go in little groups, and Margaret suggested
that they should saunter towards the Madeleine. The night was fine, but
rather cold, and the broad avenue was crowded. Margaret watched the
people. It was no less amusing than a play. In a little while, they took
a cab and drove through the streets, silent already, that led to the
quarter of the Montparnasse. They sat in silence, and Margaret nestled
close to Arthur. He put his arm around her waist. In the shut cab that
faint, oriental odour rose again to his nostrils, and his head reeled as
it had before dinner.
'You've made me very happy, Margaret,' he whispered.


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