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. It might as well be Melusine herself. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. It is necessary. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages.
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