" Ah Cum lent an ear covertly. "Because she's a fire-opal, and to the world at large they bring bad luck. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. 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. “He’s got good taste, you know.
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