"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. " "Uh-huh. “After all,” she said, “if this person will not be reasonable, I am afraid——” It was enough. 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. "Well, I'm sure Winifred could never have loved you as well as I do," said Mrs. "Do you think I'd part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I'll have the secret out of you by other means.
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