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

"The Magician"

The lights in the village were put out
little by little, and everybody slept. Susie had lighted the lamp, and
they watched beside it. A cold shiver passed through her.
'I feel as though someone were lying dead in the room,' she said.
'Why does not Arthur come?'
They spoke inconsequently, and neither heeded what the other said. The
window was wide open, but the air was difficult to breathe. And now the
silence was so unusual that Susie grew strangely nervous. She tried to
think of the noisy streets in Paris, the constant roar of traffic, and
the shuffling of the crowds toward evening as the work people returned to
their homes. She stood up.
'There's no air tonight. Look at the trees. Not a leaf is moving.'
'Why does not Arthur come?' repeated the doctor.
'There's no moon tonight. It will be very dark at Skene.'
'He's walked all day. He should be here by now.'
Susie felt an extraordinary oppression, and she panted for breath. At
last they heard a step on the road outside, and Arthur stood at the
window.
'Are you ready to come?' he said.


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