There were shadows under his eyes. “Please, Michelle, let’s not fight. 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 never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it.
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