It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. I kicked the living shit out of him. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. “Eight, Cavendish Square. She's the boss. He would never recognize me now. 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.
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