He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. " "She has suffered enough for you," said Wood. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. ’ Then all at once remembrance made her smile. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. 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. He swung it open and then used his body to pin her against her seat. “He seems like such a nice boy. ” He paused for a time. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome.
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