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. In the first place, it will be damnably dull. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame.
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