He seemed to know a great deal about life. “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!. ” He complained, handing it, case and all, to Lucy. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Another picture slid across her vision.
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