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

"The Magician"

For a moment he dared not move in case
the sound frightened her. He could not tell how to make his presence
known. But it was necessary to do something to attract her attention,
and he could only hope that she would not cry out.
'Margaret,' he called softly.
She did not move, and he repeated her name more loudly. But still she
made no sign that she had heard. He came forward and stood in front of
her.
'Margaret.'
She looked at him quietly. He might have been someone she had never set
eyes on, and yet from her composure she might have expected him to be
standing there.
'Margaret, don't you know me?'
'What do you want?' she answered placidly.
He was so taken aback that he did not know what to say. She kept gazing
at him steadfastly. On a sudden her calmness vanished, and she sprang to
her feet.
'Is it you really?' she cried, terribly agitated. 'I thought it was only
a shape that mimicked you.'
'Margaret, what do you mean? What has come over you?'
She stretched out her hand and touched him.
'I'm flesh and blood all right,' he said, trying to smile.


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