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. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. " The Chinaman paused. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed.
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