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

"The Magician"


She looked at him steadily. Her eyes now were shining with a hard
brightness.
'You say that, but you don't really think it. And yet if you only knew,
all that I have endured is on your account.'
She made a great effort to be calm.
'What do you mean?' said Arthur.
'He never loved me, he would never have thought of me if he hadn't wanted
to wound you in what you treasured most. He hated you, and he's made me
what I am so that you might suffer. It isn't I who did all this, but a
devil within me; it isn't I who lied to you and left you and caused you
all this unhappiness.'
She rose to her feet and sighed deeply.
'Once, I thought he was dying, and I helped him. I took him into the
studio and gave him water. And he gained some dreadful power over me so
that I've been like wax in his hands. All my will has disappeared, and I
have to do his bidding. And if I try to resist ...'
Her face twitched with pain and fear.
'I've found out everything since. I know that on that day when he seemed
to be at the point of death, he was merely playing a trick on me, and he
got Susie out of the way by sending a telegram from a girl whose name he
had seen on a photograph.


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