The Ragged Edge. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. . ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. Mischief bubbled up in her. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt.
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