Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. I was compelled to run away. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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