The Ragged Edge. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity.
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