By a sort of instinct. "We have had a sad loss, my dear Winifred," he began,—"for I must use the privilege of an old friend, and address you by that familiar name,—we have had a sad loss in the death of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. The Frenchman was already being followed. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. ‘Don’t be silly.
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