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. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable.
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