There were shadows under his eyes. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. Later, when the Reverend Henry Dolby entered the Spurlock room, his wife and daughter trailing amusedly behind him, and beheld the strained eagerness on the two young faces, he smiled inwardly and indulgently.
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