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. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some precious sport. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified.
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