"There's Sharples," cried Quilt. “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!. This is altogether insupportable. Her thoughts took words for themselves. " "Wretch!" cried Mrs. " "Oh, dear!" simpered Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to hide her confusion by looking steadfastly at her plate.
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