"Get in wid ye, ye villin!" And, despite his resistance, Shotbolt was thrust into the chair, which was instantly fastened upon him. ” “I am afraid,” she said, preceding him down the narrow stairs, “that I am going to be too busy to have much time for gadding about. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. ~THE END~ [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Photoplay The Ragged Edge MIMI PALMERI AS RUTH ENSCHEDE ALFRED LUNT AS HOWARD SPURLOCK] [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Photoplay The Ragged Edge A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY] [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Photoplay The Ragged Edge A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY] [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Photoplay The Ragged Edge A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY] End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ragged Edge, by Harold MacGrath *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RAGGED EDGE *** ***** This file should be named 15614-8. We won’t drag you away until you’ve been through the place from top to bottom. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service.
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