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. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. "An American. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue.
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