No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. “Um, he took me to the Big Apple. Fire; she was full of it. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. He disappeared after getting my foster sister Traci pregnant. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. 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. Certainly I never met him. It was Celeste’s idea.
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