“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 no place for me. ’ Gerald cast a swift look up the corridor, but there was no one there, not even a shadow. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad.
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