![]() Hazel continued to stare at the woman lying out on the turf like a big, broken doll. And trampled so badly, by the look of it, that she probably wasn’t going to see the sun go down, never mind her own next birthday. But it would be insensitive, she knew, to make an issue out of her relative grown-upness when someone had just been trampled by a horse. She might even have told him, in her iciest tones, not to be so rude. Under less shocking circumstances, she would have fixed the man on her right-the Cyril one-with the evil eye. Hazel Louise Mull-Dare, being very nearly thirteen years old, objected to anyone calling her a little girl. Lean on me, that’s right, but whatever you do, DON’T LOOK! Ladies. I can’t believe she’s- Oooof! Keep your eyes closed, old thing. ![]() “She must have taken leave of her senses.” “HEY! ARE YOU CRAZY OR WHAT? COME BACK!” “What’s she doing? What in the devil’s name is that woman playing at?” ![]()
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