” His face darkened. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. “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!. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood.
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