Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. She formed a habit which embarrassed Spurlock greatly, but at first he dared not complain. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Mr. ‘I borrow the expression from Melusine. 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. Men ought not to idealize any woman. Married the other and ran off after Mary died. “Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. An early bird clarinetist burst through in a long black skirt, swishing like a bell.
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