If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. 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. ’ Melusine sobered, sitting down again. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. It makes me want to be just everything I CAN be to you. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. ” She seated herself in a loose and easy attitude and surveyed the backs of the Avenue houses; then her eyes wandered to where the new red-and-white villas peeped among the trees.
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