The Ragged Edge. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. I hardly see you anymore. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. .
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