Martha had been more to her than that. 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. Gosse had to release his clamp on her mouth, for the awkwardness of the position made it impossible to negotiate the little stair. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. F. "But trifle with mo no longer. Not content with this, the assailants set fire to the house in half-a-dozen other places; and the progress of the flames was rapid and destructive.
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