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. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. " CHAPTER V.
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