’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. 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. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. Best assured of that. “It’s a way of avoiding explanations. Ennison better than I have ever told you,” she said slowly. .
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