Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. He's on the ragged edge. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. " "And what might that be?" "Will McClintock take us both?" "You took that chance. He saluted awkwardly. He'll be able to help us a little now.
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