If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. Let us proceed with our tale. He became angry.
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