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I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. . I do want them. She was furiously angry. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. 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. “Cheveney!” she repeated. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. . And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. ” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement.
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