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” She paused. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. 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.
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