Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. “If it’s about that dance project,” he said, “it’s no good, Veronica. People think it is, but they are wrong. “This stirs one. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. ’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. ” “Your secret is safe with me, sweetheart, as long as 114 you’ll lend your new friend Julian here a smoke. ” “Look here!” said Capes, “what on earth do you want? What do you think we can do? Don’t you know what men are, and what life is?—to come to me and talk to me like this!” “I know—something, anyhow. ’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade. 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. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. “I say!” he cried. ” “Daddy,” said Ann Veronica, “these affairs—being away from home has— cost money.
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