It was a beautiful, arresting face, marred only by the sullen callousness of the dark, clouded eyes.
Joan was glad of the assistance.

Hilda produced pins.
"I always come prepared to these scrimmages," she explained.

"I've got some Hazeline in my bag.

They haven't kicked you, have they ?" "No," laughed Joan.

"At least, I don't think so." "They do sometimes," answered Hilda, "if you happen to be in the way, near the feeding troughs.