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

"The Magician"

At the end of a long avenue, among the trees, he could see part of
a splendid house. He walked along the wooden palisade that surrounded the
park. Suddenly he came to a spot where a board had been broken down. He
looked up and down the road. No one was in sight. He climbed up the low,
steep bank, wrenched down a piece more of the fence, and slipped in.
He found himself in a dense wood. There was no sign of a path, and he
advanced cautiously. The bracken was so thick and high that it easily
concealed him. Dead owners had plainly spent much care upon the place,
for here alone in the neighbourhood were trees in abundance; but of late
it had been utterly neglected. It had run so wild that there were no
traces now of its early formal arrangement; and it was so hard to make
one's way, the vegetation was so thick, that it might almost have been
some remnant of primeval forest. But at last he came to a grassy path and
walked along it slowly. He stopped on a sudden, for he heard a sound. But
it was only a pheasant that flew heavily through the low trees.


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