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Paul, his little elbows squared behind him and his eyes fixed vacantly in space, ran with his soul in the toes that protruded through the ragged old boots. He knew not who was in front or who was behind. It was the madness of battle. He ran and ran, until somebody put his arms round him and stopped him. "Steady on, my boy-steady on!" Paul looked round in a dazed way. "Have A' won th' race?"
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