“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. His voice now had lost its ironies. He uttered a short laugh. “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!.
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