" "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. 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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