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Book, page 221 / 260 "She is! and I reckon it worked the best with her of any of them." "WORKED?" hesitated Miss Maggie. "Er--that is, I mean, perhaps she's made the best use of the hundred thousand," stammered Mr. Smith. "She's been--er--the happiest." "Why, y-yes, perhaps she has, when you come to look at it that way." "But you wouldn't--er--advise this Mr. Fulton to leave her--his twenty millions?" "Mercy!" laughed Miss Maggie, throwing up both hands. "She'd faint dead away at the mere thought of it." "Humph! Yes, I suppose so." Mr. Smith turned on his heel and resumed his restless pacing up and down the room. From time to time he glanced furtively at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie, her hands idly resting in her lap, palms upward, was gazing fixedly at nothing. "Of just what--are you thinking?" he demanded at last, coming to a pause at her side. "I was thinking--of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton," she answered, not looking up. "Oh, you were!" There was an odd something in Mr. Smith's voice. "Yes. I was wondering--about those twenty millions." "Oh, you were!" The odd something had increased, but Miss Maggie's eyes were still dreamily fixed on space. "Yes. I was wondering what he had done with them." "Had done with them!" "Yes, in the letter, I mean." She looked up now in faint surprise. "Don't you remember? There was a letter--a second letter to be opened in two years' time. They said that that was to dispose of the
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