The Ragged Edge. Maggot, whose nerves were more firmly strung, she contented herself with waving her hand affectionately to her lover, and encouraging him by her gestures. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. But this was long ago. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice.
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