‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. “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!. At last, she breathed. . The release was so great that she felt tears spring from her eyes. . “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever.
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