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Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. “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!. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. ” She wondered what to. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions.
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