] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. Not alone with her, that’s sure. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. “Very much as usual,” said Ramage. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. I know who she is, and I know that she has been cheated somehow by the people calling themselves Valade. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers.
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