“By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. 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. "What are those odd-looking things on the roofs?" she asked of Ah Cum.
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