Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. “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!. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest.
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