Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. “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!. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. I made it a point to bring beachcombers to the house to fill her with horror of mankind. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. “It’s your birthday today, May Day.
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