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. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. I'll speak to McClintock to-night and see if he won't take us for a junket on The Tigress.
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