Explore "The Amateur Crime" by Anthony Berkeley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Reginald Foster was surveying his garden. Every morning, when it was fine, Reginald Foster surveyed his garden, and both of them felt the better for it; Mr. Foster, because the garden, which was a large one, stood for his success in life and Mr. Foster liked surveying his successes; the garden, because surely nothing could come under Mr. Foster's benignant survey and not feel the better for it. Mr. Foster strolled slowly round the neat paths, his podgy hands clasped behind his back, and continued to survey benignly.
From a window at the back of the fat red house behind him Mrs. Foster was also doing a little surveying. She was a tepid, pale-haired little woman, and she knitted a good deal, persistently and quite unnecessarily. She was not one of Mr. Foster's successes.