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. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. I might have known it. The truth at once flashed across his mind.
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