Sheppard remained dissolved in tears. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. It was time to get up. 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 found a little difficulty in beginning.
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