The Ragged Edge. “My name,” Anna replied calmly, “is certainly Pellissier, but I repeat that I do not know you. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. “I think that’s the right name. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her.
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