C. The Ragged Edge. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. He waited the pleasure of Monsieur. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. The phone did not ring. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace.
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