‘I can take care of myself, bête. 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. So that Ann Veronica was not able to get the expert advice she certainly needed upon her spiritual state. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled.
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