"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. ’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest.
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