" Something reached down into his heart and twisted it. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement. 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.
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