Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. It was locked. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. Daybreak found her winding her painful way along the Harrow Road; and, in order to shorten the distance as much as possible, she took the nearest cut, and struck into the meadows on the right.
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