9. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ” “Okay. . "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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