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I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. It is magnificent indeed. Then he paused. I wish that it worked. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. 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. ’ With satisfaction, Gerald noted that her voice was hopelessly unsteady and drove home his advantage. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked.

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