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. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. But before the Grieg concerto was done, she knew that she was free.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 11-09-2024 22:10:29
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