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] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC. It was not for a week or a month. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. This mitigated her remorse enormously. “Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. She made me over. Capes spoke casually of their plans for work. He unhooked it from the front clasp. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. They took their places at a distant table. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said.
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