“I shall be very glad to have you for a friend,” he said, “loving friend. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. ” “Never,” he exclaimed vehemently. ‘To take a baby all the way to France without a wet-nurse. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. His face turned a dark crimson.
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