Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. ’ The lady frowned suspiciously. He and her father shook hands manfully. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. But it must have been something that could show her to be Mary’s daughter. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. 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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