And for me there is only one treasure-house. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. 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. “Of course I will,” he answered.
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