It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. “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!. Now you're up, take this spike. A bumper round, gentlemen. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more.
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