Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. She felt that she became more familiar with the floor during the time that he stayed than with any particular person. That is my way, my dear. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. “A little touchy this evening, aren’t we, Missy?” Michelle chided her friend. “Annabel,” she said brusquely.
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