Too many. White’s compliments. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them.
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