’ ‘Grossly unfair, too. “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!. ” She whispered to him. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. "You forgot your lunch," she said. “And I’m not happy.
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