His name is John. ’ Roding blinked. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. It made her hungry. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. " "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. ] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC.
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