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. She was nestled under his bedspread. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. ’ ‘Yes, well, I was too young to see it,’ the captain said, tying a knot in his makeshift bandage. She did not forge a note.
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