“I promise, Lucy. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. ” “You could never be that,” he answered, “but you are at least more serious than usual. “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!. " "That is to say, you wish you had let me die?" "That was the thought. Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his.
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