“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!. The youth of them! And what was he going to do when they left his island? What would Donald McClintock be doing with himself, when youth left the island, never more to return? Ruth was thrilling with joy. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you.
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