. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. 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. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack.
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