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. 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. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground.

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