Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. "Yes, loves, Winny. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. Someone ought to be with him until the doctor arrives. 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. He was bewildered.
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