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“You must not think of me as one. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. . During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. ” She solemnly replied. He’ll do. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. I always say that it’s poverty before everything that makes a girl skip the line. ” She gestured to an abandoned farmhouse down a long stretch of icy dirt road. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY PRODUCED BY DISTINCTIVE PICTURES CORPORATION NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS THE RAGGED EDGE CHAPTER I The Master is inordinately fond of young fools. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money.

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